


Of Wars and Laws

by Ryuujin2017



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Economics, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Fictional Religion & Theology, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Behavior, Inappropriate Humor, Military, Politics, Romance, Smut, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2019-11-22 18:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 51,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18140219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuujin2017/pseuds/Ryuujin2017
Summary: As the Ranger General Sylvanas Windrunner makes a choice that seemed unthinkable to her just mere months ago, her fate and the fates of many other characters change drastically. History will unfold in a vastly different manner yet somethings just cannot be avoided. Massive canon divergence right from the get go, as this will be an alternative history take for Warcraft. Starting from a few years before the events of Reign of Chaos, it will continue all the way into the most recent time, and beyond.





	1. FAMILY

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This work may include graphic depictions of violence, gore, sexual violence, sexually explicit content, crude language and humor, slurs, racist and other discriminatory behavior, harrassment, abuse and other potentially disturbing and triggering material. Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> (By the way, the warned about content may never arrive. It is a warning for a potential, not a promise.)
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This will be an alternative universe story, with major canon divergence right of the bat. It will be an extremely Alliance centric story and specifically a Stormwind centric story. Physical depictions of characters, their personalities, their fates and their allegiances are all open to change. Everything in this story could completely contradict canon or be unsupported by it.
> 
> The work will include potential descriptions and explanations for various elements of the world from how magic (mostly Arcane but others as well) works to the laws, systems, cultures, traditions and institutions. While some may be canon, they will mostly be either wild speculation or straight up made up for this story only.
> 
> I will mostly (not always and not strictly) use D&D like systems as a foundation for magic, blending them in Warcraft's own canon rules and explanations. As for the rest of the universe: The idea is to try and build a world, by changing certain things from canon, big and small, and try to guess what the result maybe and write accordingly. Though since this is a fanfiction, it will involve at the very least, some amount of self indulgence, thus, I may very well bend “what would actually happen with a change like that” to fit what I want. Apologies beforehand, and you have been warned.

Sylvanas stood in front of the tall dressing mirror, not looking. Her hands were busy fixating her left vambrace, but her eyes were unfocused. Her mind was busy, tired. Dark thoughts and stony emotions weighted her. It had been months since Quel'Thalas left the Alliance. Months, since the world had gone mad and stupid. First the damned Orcs escaped, and then, instead of chasing, finding and killing the accursed monsters, the entire Alliance turned against each other. Pointing fingers and exchanging insults, they devolved from seasoned monarchs to impudent children, her own king being the chief among them. It took a mere fortnight for Quel'Thalas to formally withdraw from the Alliance, tearing down a decade of military and diplomatic partnership.

The real problem was how popular this decision had been. They had just bereft themselves of the protection of the most powerful military pact on the planet, and most of Quel'Thalas was happy! From lords and ladies to peasants, from common rangers to magisters, majority of people from all walks of life seemed pleased, like some grave injustice had been corrected. It was so contradictory to what logic demanded, Sylvanas had doubted her own sanity.

Not everyone had joined the madness of course. Yet that did not comfort for her. People who had been fervent supporters of the Alliance had found themselves outnumbered and outmaneuvered. That wouldn't have been the worst, if the crown hadn't gone down the road of twisting their arms... When the declaration came, it didn't simply split them from the Alliance, it severed pretty much all military and diplomatic ties to the world outside: No more non-elven foreigners were allowed within the borders of the kingdom. Even though Quel'Thalas maintained her non-aggression and cooperation deals with Lordaeron and Dalaran, neither their military personnel, advisory or combatant, nor their ambassadors were allowed to stay. The mandate dictated that all military work and diplomatic relations would be handled by Quel'dorei representatives in the respective countries.

That had been the most brazen attempt at political subjugation she had ever seen. Surely, King Anasterian and his council had thought that this would deal with the internationalist “problem” once and for all. Well, in a sense it did. Many of those targeted by these policies made a choice, and they chose the Alliance. Within the month, majority of her political allies left their homes for one Alliance kingdom or another. Including her own sister.

No, that wasn't why Vereesa left. She left because of her husband. Because the decree meant she could be with her sister or with her Rhonin, not both. And she chose him. The whole leaving the Alliance business made her angry and the support people had shown baffled her, but this one just hurt. She first denied that it hurt and put on a calm face for Vereesa. Her little sister on the hand, was all tears and sniffles. She apologized and said she would try to visit. She didn't know if she would be allowed to, but she promised she would try. Sylvanas didn't know if she believed her. Or cared whether she believed or not. She was first numb, but that was over after a few weeks. Then came the anger. She was pissed at her for leaving. “Traitor” was the word that rang on her mind over and over. Then the anger passed too, leaving behind only sorrow. 

She lifted her gaze towards the mirror, checking the armor... And realized she had forgotten to put her gorget on. Frustrated, she started unstrapping the vambraces, taking off her gauntlets. The truth was that Sylvanas had seen herself descending down a dark path mentally. When the news of withdrawal first arrived, she blamed Terenas II and cursed his name: His senseless show of mercy for those greenskins had brought about this disaster. Then when the details became clearer, she blamed the council and her own king. Then her own sister, then herself and then everyone everywhere. It was the same spiral she tumbled down after the Second War. Back when she first learned about the death of her parents, her brother, her entire extended family save for her two sisters, she blamed herself. Then Alleria, then the Alliance, then the King, and then Alleria again and then herself again. 

But it wasn't the cycle of shifting blames and the sense of powerlessness they brought that had been suffocating her. No. It was the final conclusions she had reached, what they meant and the shame they brought. Both then and now, Sylvanas settled on blaming her king, his council and her people: The king she was sworn to serve, the council that was her fellow nobles, and the people she took an oath to protect. It was treason, plain and simple. Betrayal of the worst kind. Her thoughts were so vile, if she had heard them from the mouth of another, she would drag the wretched creature to the nearest chopping block and ensure they got nothing short of a summary execution. So she swallowed them. They sat at the pit of her stomach, waiting for her to lose her grip and puke them out. 

She felt sick as she finished putting her armor on. If she missed anything again, she didn't care. She was late for the meeting with her commanders, she didn't care about that either. Back in the day, someone would come and chastise her if she were ever late. Not that it was a common occurrence, but her mother wouldn't stand for it no matter how rare, and Alleria wouldn't miss an opportunity to mess with her little siblings. But now, there was not a single person in this spire who could do that. She was the Lady Windrunner and they were her servants. She did as she pleased and none of them could say a word. The thought made her feel lonely, and the loneliness made her feel like she was choking. She pushed herself out of her chambers.

The Windrunner Spire looked as full and lively as ever: Maids and footmen had prepared the large oak table for her breakfast, waiting for her to come down. Rowdy voices coming from the outside meant that her guards were already served theirs. The head cook was shouting over to the kitchen wenches to be more quick. With a hundred armed guards, over two dozen housekeeping staff and half a dozen stable hands, the Spire itself was crowded to say the least. Stone masons and carpenters were called from the Windrunner Village nearby when the need arose. As Ranger General, she had her own helper staff from the ranks of her rangers as well as an appointed magister under her command, and all of them lived here. Their presence could have been a heartwarming distraction for a kinder person. For Sylvanas, it just further emphasized the absence of her family.

She stormed passed the staff, telling them how she was late and needed to leave immediately. That was enough to send one of the footman running down towards the back as she continued her descent down the stairs. By the time she emerged from the large stone building, Visca the Stable Master had already been waiting for her at the ready. “I'll take one of the dragonhawks Visca, whichever one can be readied the quickest.” He made a sprint at that. “Thori'Suran my Lady Windrunner. He had been eager for a ride since last week, I'll put on his bridle and saddle in no time.”

The ever excited Visca was true to his word and soon she was flying the uncharacteristically chirpy beast. Journey to Silvermoon was too short. She needed more time, more wind on her face to shake off her blues. Being alone was good for her. Be it in the sky, or on the ground, she felt free, or at the very least, away from all the reminders of her reality. But she had to make the descent all the same, and landed with all the disappointment of an escape cut short. She handed the reigns to the stable hand waiting there. Half reciprocating, half ignoring the salutes from the lieutenants, she made her way to the offices.

“Ah, there she is!” exclaimed Halduron. Her nerves did not agree with the overt familiarity of his tone.

She walked passed him and sat on her desk, not bothering to go to her chair,“Keep your voice down Halduron. Let's start this meeting, we are late enough.”

Lor'themar shifted uncomfortably at the sharpness of her voice. “We can start, but we are one Ranger Lord short; Marris isn't here.” Renthar picked up from where he left off, “Is he even allowed in Silvermoon anymore? Or anywhere in the kingdom really?”

Sylvanas dismissed the non-concern, “He is not an allied personnel, he is a direct member of Farstriders. The decree does not affect him.”

“Are we sure about that? I have the feeling His Grace could argue for a case against.”

“I am sure he can Renthar. Then again we all know how the last argument about him went. So, let's move on to the actual matters: We are about to lose half of our personnel. Any ideas about how to make up for the shortage?”

Even as she asked the question, she already knew the answers: They would increase patrol times for the remaining rangers, try to recruit, build new outposts closer to the borders with the Amani and the Thalassian Pass. But at the end of the day, nothing would be enough to make up for the loss of half their army and the Alliance personnel who aided them. 

“We could build a wall? At least King Greymane thinks it will work.” Halduron was grinning like the cheeky bastard he was.

Lor'themar was not amused, “Excellent idea, as long as our enemies don't know how to tame flying beasts, or build ladders.”

“I have the feeling trying to build a wall in forest terrain will render either the forest or the wall useless. I mean, they could always just climb a tree, or are we chopping down our own woodlands as a precaution? And who pays for that anyway, our budget got slashed too.” Renthar was dead serious as he spoke, causing Halduron to go from grinning to snorting.

Sylvanas sighed. “We can beg his majesty to reinstate the conscription.”

“I thought you had already done that.” Lor'themar sounded as tired as she felt.

“I begged to keep the conscription. Perhaps now, after a few months, they would be willing to reinstate it?”

“You don't believe that.”

“It is our best shot. We cannot walk into that council gathering asking to go back to the Alliance. They will say yes to any useless rearrangement, however, we don't have the luxury of being complacent. If you have a better idea, speak up. That's what this meeting is for.”

“We will increase the patrols. Just the number of tours instead of the duration. Maybe build one more lodge closer to the Thalassian Pass. Another one facing Zul'Aman. That much we already planned. Mostly we'll need to decrease the personnel operating abroad, bringing them back home to serve here.”

“We don't have much personnel operating abroad,” Renthar interjected, “Most of the best went to Outland with the Alliance Expedition. Raising a proper Farstrider takes at least two decades if not more. We never managed to fill their shoes. The soonest we can put someone in their place is, what? 12 years away?”

“Make it 20.” said Halduron, still clinging onto his cheer even if it was half gone now. “The class we started to train are about to go back home, remember? They were conscripts.”

Sylvanas crossed her arms across her chest. “We are going in circles here. These are the exact same ideas, with the exact same jokes as we had for the past a few months. We made the calculations, no matter how we spin this, we will have a glaring vulnerability. Orders are ready, this time next week, all rangers will take double patrols. We even pulled senior students in the academy for occasional duty. And yet, we cannot cover even half the area we had before.”

“We can just say that.” Halduron was now fully serious, standing straight in front of her, “We can just tell them that their little political stunt made us less safe. Leaving the Alliance? Fine. But abolishing the conscription? Slashing our budget? How do they think that's gonna work?”

“Magisters.” Lor'themar's answer come out more like a confession than anything else. “They will rely on magisters and the Runestones for the defense of the greater kingdom. Silvermoon will be safe thanks to Ban'dinoriel.”

“What kinda nonsense is that?” Renthar looked at him like he heard an unpleasant joke. “Most of our people live _outside _of Silvermoon. And the dependance on Runestones fucked us in the Second War! We had the largest army of monsters this world had ever seen march right through our borders with dragons and shit, and we didn't even know before half of the Eversong was burnt!”__

____

____

“I am not saying it makes sense. I am just saying that's what they'll do.”

“And you know this because?” Sylvanas' voice came out way more threatening than she had any intention of. And Lor'themar squirmed at that, “Dar'Khan told me. He works for Grand Magister Belo'vir now.”

Both Halduron and Renthar turned to him, disbelief and shock apparent on their faces. Realization dawned on all of them slowly: The tug of war between magisters and rangers had been going on since the founding of Quel'Thalas. Sometimes magisters got what they wanted, sometimes rangers. But now, magistrecy didn't simply outmaneuver them, they out right replaced them. The main authority on defense in the High Elven kingdom was no longer the army.

Renthar was the first one to shake the shock off, “The King can order whichever spellchugger he wants, whatever he wants, Sylvanas is still the Ranger General. That's not an appointed office, that seat belongs to her family. And we all have the right to raise troops from lands under our rule. They think they can just reduce us to glorified sentries? We'll walk right back to our own domain and raise an army, their abolishments be damned!”

“And do what?” Sylvanas' voice was ice cold, “What do you suggest we do, Ranger Lord? And do choose your next words carefully, lest we go from glorified sentries to rebels.”

“We defend the lands as we see fit. We have the right!”

“Who will obey that? You forget that the conscripts want to go home. They are happy with the arrangement. Those are the people you suggest we rally in our own lands. And even if we managed to that, how do you think it will look? Do you think anyone will believe that defending the lands claim, no matter how true?”

“So what? We just roll over?” Halduron was fuming while Lor'themar shrinked in his seat, “We just let them, what, demote us and then watch them go play soldier with their precious crystals!?”

Sylvanas opened her arms to her sides. Leaning back on her desk, she held on to the edge of it as she spoke, “We go the council gathering. We offer to complete the slashed portion of the budget from our own pockets. In return, we ask permission to recruit, and authority to make contracts with mercenaries.”

“If the goal is to declaw us, they will not allow any recruitment or mercenaries,” pointed out Lor'themar.

“That can be arranged. They could have restrictions on where the recruits can operate. Same for mercenaries. The point is to have enough personnel to continue the level of protection that had been deemed necessary after the Second War. Who holds the reigns and who gets to brag does not matter.”

“That's it then. We tell them they fucked our defenses and we can salvage it if they let us pay for stuff,” said Halduron as a matter of factly.

“Yes, but in a less confrontational, more political manner. And that means you should all be glad that I, Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, will be doing the talking and not Halduron the Rogue Brightwing.”

That managed to get a laugh out of Lor'themar. With the meeting done, Sylvanas dismissed them all and stood alone in her office. She was being dishonest. There had been other options. Options she had turned down with impunity, until now. If she had accepted one of the marriage proposals made to her, she would have been in a much better position. Some of her suitors were from families who supported the same policies as her, however, some were now in the opposition camp. Getting one of those houses to her side could have opened up the opportunity to reach even more of them. King had the last word, but since the day he was crowned, he had never gone against what the majority of his council voted for. There had been times he had gone and done something before the council even had a chance to discuss it, but still...

The very thought made her physically ill. It wasn't like this before. Before, a political match was normal to her, she had neither negative nor positive feelings about it. She was certain, one day, if she were to see it fit, she would marry a fellow noble who would be beneficial to her family's standing. Not anymore. Not for years now. And she had lost all sense of shame and embarrassment about her own weakness too. The Second War took care of that. She had tasted the despair of losing so much. And she had tasted the comfort he provided. Alleria and Vereesa were her precious sisters, Lor'themar and Halduron were dear friends who stood by her for well over a century. But it was Nathanos she turned to when the world seemed at its darkest.

Making him swear oaths of undying fealty to another realm and another race seemed amusing at first. Then she realised he only cared about those vows because she was the one asking. But even after she had given up on pretenses, some part of her was still ashamed of what she was doing. She could neither lie to herself about the depth of her feelings, nor she could claim this was an acceptable behavior for a High Elf of her station. Sure, meaningless dalliances with humans were not uncommon. On the contrary, they were the greatest and the worst kept secrets of Quel'Thalas: A shame no family admitted and yet all families carried. Conceiving bastards was a tad worse, however, one could always ditch them at Dalaran with a decent sum of money and be done with it.

No, having affairs and even bringing life to this world was acceptable, as long as you abandoned them at an appropriate location, never to be mentioned again. “Warm blood in all our veins” was how the saying went. Now, falling in love, that was madness! Her own affair was an open secret. Never confirmed by either of them, yet somehow everyone knew. Despite all her fears, that still wasn't enough for anyone to dismiss his skills. Yet, they ignored him as a man all the same. Prince Kael'thas knew about him when he proposed. Her own rejection had been curt because of it. He had looked baffled then, like he wasn't expecting a woman already in an affair with another man to reject him. Sylvanas doubted he would be as brave had her “lover” been a fellow High Elf. 

She went and slouched in her chair. Her thoughts drifted to Alleria: The oldest of the Windrunner sisters had always been a free spirit. Never cared much about tradition, or expectations. She wanted to be a Farstrider because that's what she wanted to do, not because that was the family mission. And she refused her own inheritance because she despised politics and preferred brawl to diplomacy. Surely, even their mother wouldn't be surprised she ended up having a human as a partner. Disappointed, but not surprised. 

_“She would be mortified,” _a voice said in her head. _“She would be mortified if she were to see all three of her prized daughters falling for human men.” _But she didn't see any of it. Her mother did not see Alleria coming home at the end of war, telling her she was carrying a half blooded bastard. She didn't see her go to Stormwind to give birth in secret. Or her face when she returned.____

_____ _

_____ _

That broke Sylvanas, even more than putting their parents and little Lirath onto the pyre. She was used to seeing Alleria in all her ways; The peaks of her anger and the depths of her sorrow. She thought she had seen the worst of her when they first got the news about their family: She was a blabbering mess, going round and round among rage, despair and shock, unable to settle on any. Then she had just left, disappeared shortly after the funeral, to drown herself in her cups Sylvanas had assumed. She learned where she had actually gone after the war's end. She couldn't blame her, not when she had done the same. But how she looked after her trip to Stormwind... She was a ghost. Worse than a ghost, a tormented revenant, like someone ripped half of her soul out. Alleria had given herself the bare minimum amount of time to recover and then immediately volunteered for mop-up missions against Orcs: Hunting the monsters with a self destructive bloodlust and then spending all her leaves with her baby boy in Stormwind.

In a way, Sylvanas had known the day she could no longer see her sister was fast approaching. She feared it would be because her recklessness would get her killed in one of her hunts. But if she were to survive, Alleria would eventually choose to stay in Stormwind permanently, with her son and with the father of her child. Fate was cruel for stealing her, not just from Sylvanas, but from little Arator too. Arator, her nephew... The only memento of her older sister other than a piece of jewelry. She hadn't seen him in years, since the ceremony for the unveiling of the statues in Stormwind. He would be, what, 9 years old now? That was a decent amount of time for an elven child and humans grew even faster.

The dread of loneliness creeped up on her again. She was in the homeland of her people, but everyone she cared about were elsewhere. Vereesa was in Dalaran, she could go visit Arator, maybe even take the boy to live with her. And then they would be together there, while Sylvanas was alone here. _“You can leave too,” _said the voice. Sylvanas sat up straight at that thought. She was the Lady Windrunner now, Ranger General of Silvermoon. Her place was here. Among her people, in the lands of her ancestor, carrying on their legacy. While the last members of her living, breathing family were in exile...__

____

____

Sitting in the office was ideal for her to drown in her own thoughts, so she left. What she really wanted was to fly to the Marris Stead, however, there were rules to every clandestine affair and one of those rules was to have an excuse for meeting. Since his next scheduled report wasn't due for another two months, going there was not an option. Down and out with the cadets on the field worked as a good alternative: They were happy that Ranger General herself was attending the training, she was too busy and active to drive herself mad and chewing them out on occasion was good for her nerves. And when the day ended, she was too tired to think, allowing her to just take a bath, eat and have a dreamless sleep.

But the morning came and with it, all the bricks and stones from yesterday did too. She didn't skip breakfast this time, she needed to be at her best if she were to brave this council gathering. Fully clad in her ceremonial armor, she called her magister for a portal and set foot to an unusually chilly Silvermoon. Her adjutant, Ranger Captain Avareth, welcomed her immediately, carrying the documents she would need today, “His Majesty haven't arrived yet, but I saw Grand Magister Belo'vir, so at the very least he is here.”

“Any news of His Royal Highness?”

“He is not here and as far as I know, he is not expected to be.”

Typical. Kael'thas was a great advocate of cooperation with the other races that made up the Alliance... Until the time came for him to actually stand up to his father and do the advocating. Their prince was content with living in Dalaran and posturing about the issues he allegedly cared. Meanwhile, the persistent absence of his only heir was driving His Majesty mad with paranoia: Worrying about lesser races stealing him at one time, worrying about him conspiring to usurp the throne in the next. King Anasterian was old even for a High Elf and he needed someone to help him make decisions. And when his own son refused to join his advisers, others did in his stead. Rumors ran that the prince had a lover that he couldn't bare to be apart, but Sylvanas didn't believe them. She had known Kael'thas Sunstrider, and if he had a lover he couldn't be apart, it was the Arcane. 

They made their way to the throne room in quick step. She took the files from Avareth and sent him on his way out. As she sat down on her designated seat at the far right corner of the base the throne, she eyed the crowd, trying to see if she had anyone she could rely on. There were small yet visible gaps in the chamber, seats that used to hold the pro-Alliance house-heads were mostly empty. Some had left the kingdom, some refused to attend the meetings in protest. Ah, but Lady Ar'nareth was still there: Sitting on the stone step reserved for her family, looking as displeased and annoyed as ever. That was an ally that could just as easily be a hindrance: Quick to anger and with a tongue that would put the late Queen to shame, she could burn this entire meeting down if her opposition acted in an intentionally obtuse manner. Granted, Grand Magister Belo'vir was too smart and too proud to even pretend to be anything less than appropriately intelligent, but Lord Astalor was not.

The moment she thought of the man, he appeared alongside His Majesty together with the rest of the royal advisers. Everyone stood up and bowed to the King as he walk towards his throne. After he sat down, he signaled with his hand for the rest them to sit as well. Astalor was sitting next to Belo'vir's left, as far away from Sylvanas as possible without leaving the base of the throne. If he was avoiding her, then he knew an argument was coming. Grand Magister opened the session with the traditional declaration and the usual took place: Reading the list of topics that were supposed to be discussed today, followed by the opening statements on the first item. The list was short, but subjects were heavy: Budget was always a contentious matter, so was any sort of infrastructure. Following them was the expected upon reports from the Army about the new defense arrangements in the post-Alliance Quel'Thalas: Her turn.

Putting that after two of the most time consuming matters had to be a deliberate choice. Even the most diligent ones in the room would be fed up and tired by then, aching to go home. Especially budget. That was clearly done so she wouldn't be able to ask for anything other than what they have already decided to give, _“Budget had already been set,” _they would say. All of them were expected tricks. Not that expecting them made any difference. She would have to work her way through them all the same. Swift and on point would be the way to go, bringing up the most crucial parts and not getting into every detail no matter how useful. She didn't have the luxury of arguing points she knew would not be approved. She had to aim for the most realistic point, which was a bare bones arrangement that would be too vague and chip too much of her autonomy. Better than nothing.__

____

____

The gathering dragged on and on, as usual. Profanities were shouted during budget talks, things got so heated, they had to take a break to calm some people down. All of this, with a massive tax cut. Money grubbers were always the ones her mother hated the most. “High Goblins” she would call them. They maintained the cuts made to the army and Sylvanas did not object. That was not the fight she was here for. Her family and the families of her Ranger Lords would have to bare that burden for the next 5 years. After that, well, if all things went well, they could come back and have another fight and this time manage to rip a few coins from the High Goblins.

Infrastructure on the other hand, went relatively smooth. Probably because all the lands in question belonged to the crown, so it wasn't skin off anyone's back. And His Majesty had already agreed. Lord Astalor seemed disappointed at that. If Belo'vir was also feeling the same way, he did not show. At last, her turn had come.

Upon hearing the Grand Magister call her name, Sylvanas stood up and walked to the center of the hall: Designed as an amphitheater, everyone could see and hear her from there, “I will cut to the chase immediately: There is no way to fulfill the expected standard of defense under the current circumstances. We have rearranged work schedules to increase the number of patrols, we pulled academy seniors into filling the lesser missions, we changed the routes and decreased the number of rangers in each platoon in order to have more teams. Still, we can only cover barely half of the ground we had the past decade. The restructuring resulted in each team having less force in them, meaning their ability to properly respond to enemy presence is also reduced on top their ability to detect them.”

Not hearing any objections, she continued, “Taking the cuts to the budget into consideration, the High Command came up with a solution: Ranger General and the Ranger Lords will pay from our own fortune to complete the amount missing from the Army's previous income. In return we ask for three things: Permission to recruit, permission to implement localized conscription in regions of the willing Grand Seigneurs and permission to hire mercenaries.”

As soon as she said the word “conscription” voices of disagreement and annoyance rose from the crowd. “Let the people go home already!” “You say willing, we all know you would just shame us for it!” “If we give in to conscription, we'll have riots in our own towns!”

Among the shouting of complaints, Grand Magister Belo'vir stood up, “Now, if we all could just keep things in an orderly manner please? Thank you.” When the hall quieted down, he continued, “I am afraid Lady Windrunner, that conscription part will not do. It is absolutely admirable that you are willing put your own fortune out there, however, a conscription is more than just coin. It is time out of people's lives, it is families left without their younger ones, it is apprentices and students whose education get disrupted and delayed. While we may ask our people to put everything on hold to serve their country in the time of need, it is not a sacrifice we can demand continuously.”

Sounds of approval rose from all around, and Sylvanas spoke unconcerned, “That is all good and well Grand Magister. I take it as you having no other objections to other parts of the plan?”

“Well, no. I have other objections and many other advisors as well-”

“Why? Rest sounds fine to me: Recruits and mercenaries, she can have a million of them for all I care,” shouted Lord Voren'thal.

“Because we have just made a decision that forbids non-elven presence within our borders and the essence of removing conscription is so that we don't lose valuable labor from other aspects of society to the armed services. Mercenaries violate the first part and any recruitment campaign would violate the second,” answered Belo'vir matter of factly.

“Well then I'm afraid we are in a conundrum. We need to protect our people and our lands from any and all threats, yet are unable to under the current circumstances. Do you expects us to lie and say everything is safe and sound? Or do you have a solution in mind that I am missing?” Sylvanas knew what was coming, and arguing against it was her best shot.

“Runestones will provide more than enough protection for our borders. Elfgates we shall further empower and enhance with our fellow magisters and together with Ban'dinoriel they will cover most of the defensive needs of our kingdom,” stated Lord Astalor.

_“Here we go.” _Raising her hand to signal a stop, Sylvanas began to lay out her case, “Let me stop you right there, because those won't do. Ban'dinoriel covers only the Silvermoon City proper. Majority of our population lives outside of the city, in the countryside. Reliance on Runstones and Elfgates is what got half our kingdom burnt in the Second War. There is no point in unlearning what we already know. Researches and evaluations done after that tragedy still stand: The best way to ensure safety is to have enough rangers that can cover the kingdom in patrols at any given time and respond to any enemy incursions _together _with the magical defenses provided by our magisters. Going back from that now will only return us to the point we started. The point that is now proven beyond all doubt to be unsafe.”____

_____ _

_____ _

Not giving any of the royal advisers an opportunity to respond, she turned her face towards the rest of council, “We had an army of unimaginable size, full of enslaved dragons march into our heartland, and neither our Runestones nor our Elfgates could stop them. There was a time when we could rely on them and them alone, but it has passed. There is no going back in life, only forward. We need to do all we can to match the standard that is proven to be necessary, anything less is just throwing the lives of our people out.”

“Oh please, spare us the hyperbole. We are in no apparent danger of another such invasion and the Arcane crafts you declare useless protected our kingdom for millennia!”Lord Astalor was clearly annoyed, his voice was just short of an angry rant.

“Are we not?” Sylvanas pressed, “Orcs have escaped from their camps. Who among you can guarantee that they aren't mustering their strength to start another campaign of terror? We know Black Dragons are active and around, can we honestly say we are prepared against an airborne attack? Amani aren't dead. Zul'jin is still at large. With their Orcish allies now free, how can we claim they won't be setting their eyes on our lands again? And those are the threats we know about. With all the history of our world, of our people, can we really afford to fool ourselves into thinking that no unpleasant surprises will happen? For us to be safe, truly safe, there is only one thing to do: To be vigilant at all times. To have the utmost security we can muster.”

“And you think more foreigners flashing their bows around is the way to go about it?”

“I _think _that reducing our physical defenses is a step backwards. If the Magistrecy wants to have a larger role in matters of security, then by all means, do so. Enhancing Elfgates and Runestones all sound fine to me, but we still need to keep up our military capacity to its highest. These things are not mutually exclusive.”__

____

____

“On that, I am forced to disagree,” Belo'vir visibly blocked Astalor with his body as he spoke, “There are more to life than just protecting mere existence of a people. We have made a decision here, to preserve our people's way of life, our culture and our bloodlines, and your suggestion runs contrary to that. And while I do think you are coming from a point of concern for our safety, I think you are underestimating the capabilities of your fellow Quel'dorei. Especially that of our magi. Runestones, Elfgates and Ban'dinoriel together with the Ranger Army kept Quel'Thalas safe for almost 3000 years, since the days of Troll Wars. We had doubters back when we first put those magical defenses, rangers such as yourself were unconvinced, yet they worked all the same.”

“They worked, until the Second War. Back when our Arcane protections were first established, it was those who did not understand the need for newer and better defenses who objected them. They thought the old way of Ranger Army being the sole force would be enough, and they were wrong. His Majesty and the council back then had shown the will to make the necessary improvements despite their misgivings. I am asking for the same today. Back then your suggestion was the improvement. Today, it is the old news. We need a step forward. And addition, not an extraction.”

“And mercenaries is the step forward? Letting bunch of glorified bandits into our borders is the next step?” Try as he might, Belo'vir was incapable of calming Astalor, or perhaps this was a strategy where one played the raging thug and the other played the conciliator. It didn't matter which, because Sylvanas was determined not to take the that fight, bait or genuine-

“Alliance was the next step,” Lady Ar'nareth said with a loud enough voice for all to hear, her face full of contempt. 

_“Oh no...” ___

____

____

It took a moment for the hall to register what she had just said, and then it erupted in angry shouts. Insults, rants, unintelligible screams filled the entire throne room. Lady Ar'nareth was completely unfazed by the amount of hate she received, “Call me whatever you want, you all damn know I am right.”

That just caused even more shouting. Sylvanas had to return them all to the subject at hand, otherwise the entire session would be derailed with a screaming match, “THE ALLIANCE IS NOT AN OPTION ANYMORE!” she roared the way only a battle hardened commander could. Amphitheater did its job, drowning all other sounds. They were quiet with shock for a moment, and a moment was all she needed, “But we have other options and no, I am not talking about bandits. Upkeep of armies is expensive, very, very expensive. The Alliance kingdoms are stretching their resources, trying to support their massive force. People are no more happy about paying exorbitant taxes there than they are here. We can _rent _or _hire _a portion of their forces, they would be glad about not paying for them anymore. We can put them in charge of our border defenses, set up protocols so they are not allowed to move much into the kingdom. With them taking the brunt of defending the most vulnerable areas, we can take care of the rest with our existing personnel. If we hire a large enough force, we may not even need additional recruitments.”____

_____ _

_____ _

“Oh I get it! You just want us to pay your Alliance friends' debts!” Astalor was beyond all reason, screaming from where he stood.

“She said she'll pay herself just now! Come on, be honest for heaven's sake!” Lord Voren'thal was no friend of hers, but he was apparently no friend of Astalor either.

“How is her buying a private army and jamming it through our borders suppose to be better?”

“Astalor you senseless twig. You haven't said a single useful thing this entire gathering, do us all a favor and keep your wine hole shut!” Lady Ar'nareth had lost all sense of decorum long ago, standing up from her spot. She was fully clad in her battle pose.

“THE POINT OF THE MATTER IS LADY WINDRUNNER,” Belo'vir mimicked her action from a few moments ago with magic, “WE WILL NOT ALLOW NO MORE OF THEM WITHIN OUR KINGDOM BECAUSE WE SEE NO USE AND FEEL THAT FRATERNIZING WITH THEM CAUSES TROUBLE ABOVE ALL!”

“No use! Did we all forget who saved us when a monster army of over quarter million came?” Sylvanas was losing her patience as well. Powerplays, stinginess and unnecessary challenges to get more concessions were all fair parts of the game, but to rewrite inconvenient truths out of recent memory? That was bordering on delusion, madness.

“We wouldn't have any monsters in the first place if we hadn't allied with them!” Astalor was still shouting, with rising rage visible on his face. Yet he did not make any moves to get closer to her.

_“Coward.” _Sylvanas snapped at him this time, “Orcs came because they were _allied _with the Trolls. You all thought Orcs wouldn't care for us and sent the last of the Arathi line away with a mere century of archers as if that could ever pay for our debt! They came to help us anyway.”____

_____ _

_____ _

“They sent a recently anointed priest playing at knighthood!”

“Turalyon was a _Paladin _and Second in Command to Anduin Lothar himself. He came here with more than one third of the entire Alliance Army.”__

____

____

“For all the good it did. Our people were safe thanks to Ban'dinoriel, not them.”

That did it for Sylvanas. She didn't care if it was a trap, “ _Safe thanks to Ban'dinoriel _is that it? They were safe because we were out there fighting! All those towns and villages, we evacuated them and hid them behind the defensive lines we built with our own bodies!” She took a few steps toward him, and Grand Magister blocked her path. But before he could say anything Astalor resumed his own rant.__

____

____

“Your own family almost went extinct, protected them she says! Orcs came, they couldn't pass the barrier into Silvermoon and then left! Thanks to our magic!”

“They left because we trapped them between the shield and our forces, cutting down their army piece by piece. They left after a mere week because if they didn't, they would all die to us. You think that's how wars work? You think people just siege a city for a week and then leave. Without us out there you have an army full of dragons and warlocks comfortably studying the ways to break down the barrier. They had already downed the Runestones and Elfgates, you really think they wouldn't be able to break Ban'dinoriel? Really? And yes, my own family was almost all gone, but we have saved far more. All the people who weren't lucky enough to live in the city, we protected them in safe zones we carved through the Orcish Horde, while you all hid inside a bubble!”

Sylvanas had long darted pass the Grand Magister and as she walked towards Astalor he kept going backwards, eventually hitting the foot of the throne. Unable to move any further, he had trapped himself between the throne and the raging Ranger General.

As the shouting match between her and Astalor kept escalating, so did the other voices in the hall. People were completely lost in their anger, some were furious at the accusation of _hiding _, others were outraged that all the dead rangers were getting insulted with the claim of _only magic saved us _, mages were flabbergasted that their own efforts were belittled. Soon, pushing and spitting began on the steps of the amphitheater. Sylvanas grabbed Astalor by the collar of his robes and started dragging him away from the throne, “Come out here and talk properly you sniveling excuse of a mage.” Belo'vir was trying to stop her but physically he was no match for any ranger, let alone her. Taking a step back he began casting a spell. Sylvanas almost threw Astalor to the ground and drew her scimitar. Closing the gap between her and Grand Magister in one swift step, she jammed her fist to the base of his chin, silencing whatever incantation he was trying to voice.____

_____ _

_____ _

“QUIET IT DOWN!”

The entire hall froze. No one made a sound or a move. King Anasterian Sunstrider had stood from his throne and shouted in a booming voice that almost deafened them all. This was the second time Sylvanas had ever seen him raise his voice like that, or stand in such fury. The first one had been when Alleria came to the council room during the Second War, and threw the Troll head she had cut from the invading army to the feet of the throne. He had jumped then, blind with rage and kicked it from his step, ordering all of their military might to be sent out to fight against the Trolls who dared to set foot in their lands. And now, this. This time, it was their own nonsense and brawl that got to him. Sylvanas felt small, like a little child who got caught doing some mischief. They were all children compared to the King. Over 3000 years old, people they called ancestor, His Majesty called childhood friends. The sentiment was shared by everyone in the room. In that moment, they were all children, waiting for their dad to bring the boot down.

“Windrunner, Bloodsworn, Salonar, you stay. Everyone else, out! The session is over. And Ar'nareth, keep your mouth shut on your way out.”

Lady Ar'nareth pursed her lips at that, fists clinging her own gown almost to the point of tearing it. But she did not object. None of them did. Heads down and mouths shut, they all bowed to His Majesty and rapidly left the hall. Sylvanas took the moment to sheathe her sword and take in deep breaths to calm herself down. Belo'vir Salonar was spitting blood, one hand on his jaw. Astalor Bloodsworn was rubbing the back of his neck like it had a cut, looking at his feet, too scared to move away from Sylvanas.

At last, the entire hall was empty save for the three of them, the King and his guards. Once the gates closed, His Majesty took his seat on the throne again. “Windrunner, baring your blade in the presence of Your King, have you lost your wits?”

Sylvanas had no excuses. She kneeled, head low, “I apologize Your Majesty, I accept any punishment you see fit.”

He snorted at that. “Bloodsworn, don't you know better than to taunt people with their deceased kin? Keep your mouth shut for the reminder of this talk, or you're out of the royal advisors.”

Astalor had no response to that, shaking his head in agreement he continued to stand where he was.

“Grand Magister Belo'vir Salonar, gets stopped by a single punch. Perhaps Windrunner is right, the skills of the magi is not enough.”

Belo'vir lifted his chin as he spoke, “With all due respect Your Majesty, we are not trying to disband the Ranger Army. Of course they are necessary and I am not at all ashamed that our esteemed Ranger General managed to beat me with such ease in close quarters. We expect this and trust their services. However, with all things considered, her demands are still unacceptable and unnecessary.”

“Yes, all things considered. Windrunner, your capabilities aren't in question, but the things you want are too extravagant, and create a sense of suspicion. Why do you need a larger army, an Alliance army at that, under your command? Going so far as to say you will pay for it yourself?”

“The command of the contractors could be at the hands of Your Majesty directly or any other authority you see fit. The point is that we need more people to do the job we are tasked with. Nothing else matters.”

“Still, you should understand your position. We do not want anymore Alliance presence within our kingdom, no matter the cause. It is a matter of sovereignty and preserving of the elven race.”

A chill went down her back at that. “With all due respect Your Grace, but what is my _position _exactly?”__

____

____

The King didn't answer, instead Belo'vir did, “You are politically compromised.”

Her own blood was whistling in her ears, “And what does that suppose to mean?”

“It means we have reasons to believe your loyalties are split and thus cannot be trusted without concern.” What Belo'vir described was dangerously close to treason.

She kept her breath steady despite the throbbing veins in her head, “And I am being accused of this because? I have never wavered in my duties nor have I ever had anything but the best interest of Quel'Thalas in mind.” 

“Your sister married a human and then left the kingdoms for him. It is well known how close you are to her. And then we also know... Well, you can guess that yourself already.”

Sylvanas was shell-shocked. That's what all of this was about? So all that talk about protecting our people's way of life, _preserving of the elven race _... was about this? About the love Vereesa felt, and about the hypothetical half elven children some people might have. " _Your nephew is the enemy they hate the most. The children you never dared to have. _"____

_____ _

_____ _

Sylvanas took it all in, and decided to leave before her shock gave way to rage. “As far as I understand, Your Majesty has no intention of changing his mind about the size and capacity of our army.”

“Yes. You can keep all the other changes you mention. The ones about new schedules and new platoon structures. But no recruitments, and no mercenaries. Quel'Thalas will protect its own and we won't sabotage the wealth of our people with fear.” King Anasterian was calm as he spoke. For months they had discussed and deliberated, for months they had been bent over maps, pouring hours and days into finding a solution to their glaring security issues. All of that, for nothing. Decision was long made, and it had neither care for the safety of the kingdom, nor a a concern for its welfare. They were worried about some people _fraternizing _with other races.__

____

____

“If that is all Your Grace, I ask permission to leave?”

“Granted. And Windrunner, don't you ever draw a sword or any other weapon in my presence again. I will not be this lenient.”

“As Your Majesty commands,” and with that, she rose back up after bowing to the King and left the throne room as quickly as she can without running. Her entire body shook with rage and sorrow. She wanted to leave the city, right at that very moment. She wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. But she had to return to her offices, meet with her Ranger Lords, and inform them about how the council gathering went. Swallowing all the emotions building up inside her, she made her way towards the military wing.

All three of the Ranger Lords jumped back when she slammed the door open. Not bothering to close it, she walked passed them and forcefully sat in her chair. Lor'themar darted back and closed the door to the office while Renthar and Halduron kept standing in front of her desk, waiting for her to speak. 

“We get nothing,” she said finally. “No conscription, no recruitment, no mercenaries, nothing.”

Halduron was visibly taken aback. Ever the optimist, he clearly did not expected such a decisive defeat. On the other hand, Lor'themar had the face of a man who had given up long ago. Renthar was enraged.

“What? Why? What kind of nonsense is that? What's the excuse here? Have they all gone mad?”

“We will keep the new structure and the new patrol schedule and that's it. No extra spending and no extra hand.”

“But that's absurd! What even is the reason making them so opposed to the idea of having a proper _armed force? _”__

____

____

She did not answer that. Sensing her simmering rage, her Ranger Lords did not press, waiting for her to speak on her own instead. Sylvanas felt both exposed and unappreciated: Exposed, because this was the first time someone threw her affair in her face. Unappreciated, because she had done everything for her people, yet it did not matter: All the battles she had fought, all the times she had bled, all the people she had lost, none of them mattered. With whom she shared her heart was enough excuse to write them all off. She felt her stomach rising. All this swallowing of thoughts had started to get to her. She forced herself to speak, lest she let something else slip.

“There are... societal concerns, regarding how the presence of a mercenary army might affect our people. They also think recruiting outside of the academy as a drain on our workforce.”

“Oh what a buttload of horseshit! Seriously now!” Halduron, shaken off his shock, joined Renthar in his anger, “Which societal concerns exactly? They're afraid people will shit in the woods?”

“What's done is done. Screaming on our own won't change anything, it merely ruins our nerves further.” Lor'themar took it upon himself to try and stop the other two from driving each other into a frenzy, “We heard, shortly before you arrived Ranger General, that there had been fighting in the throne room.”

“Yeah, someone tried to bite Lord Voren'thal's ear off apparently. What about that? And they said something about how you tried to cut down both Astalor and Belo'vir,” Halduron asked. He was searching for some news about a bit of fisticuffs to brighten up his own mood.

“Clearly it was a lie. You don't draw a blade in front of His Majesty and not get at least whipped for it,” Lor'themar retorted.

The look Sylvanas sent his way almost gave him a heart attack, “You didn't!”

Renthar was in a mood, “Are they dead? Is that why we don't get anything?”

“Astalor insulted my family. And no, I did not draw my blade on him. But Belo'vir tried to attack me with a spell, now to that, I did unsheathe my scimitar.”

“Did you get whipped?” Halduron was grinning from ear to ear. It was contagious.

“No, but I did get warned not to do it again. Probably will lose an arm and a leg if I ever dare,” Sylvanas gestured from her seat like she had been hung from her left limbs.

They started laughing way too loudly at that. It was a form of catharsis, even Lor'themar joined despite the scandalized look he had a moment ago. They calmed down after an inappropriately long time. Sylvanas gave them their leave, but Lor'themar asked for permission to stay, which she granted. After he settled down back in a chair, he started to speak in a tone that meant he was trying to comfort her, “I know all the horrors we fear, but perhaps we shall be lucky once more. We had been blessed with 20 centuries of relative peace before, could happen again.”

“We used to think those times as normal rather than peaceful. Times when we had to fight against resurging Amani and and other beasts crossing into our borders. Before the Second War, you and I thought we got baptized in fire, fighting against Zul'jin. Now we consider them be the _good old days _when everything was fine and quiet. This is our reality now, even if they don't want to admit it.”__

____

____

“Think of it this way: Zul'jin escaped, but heard no word of him, even after a decade. Maybe he survived, recovered and will attack us tomorrow. Or maybe he succumbed to his injuries. Yes, Orcs escaped, but they are a weakened bunch of marauders, hiding in the mountains. They have no power and no tools to reopen the Dark Portal. And even if they were to rally their strength and attack us, I highly doubt the Alliance would sit on their hands and watch. We may not be close friends anymore, but the greenskins are still a common enemy.”

“Would they really bother to help I wonder? We haven't exactly been good allies: First they came to us in their time of need, we dismissed them with a mere token of support. Then, when it was our turn to need help, they showed up and it looked like we were committed too. But now, we ditched them again. We had been such fair weather friends, they may not care. Our elders always said it: _Humans are ambitious and reckless. Dwarves are greedy. _If they see no profit in helping us, they may not show up.”__

____

____

Lor'themar frowned at that. “Perhaps. Then again, in that case, we have no guarantee they would help us even if we stayed with them, since the the important part is seeking profit.”

Sylvanas slouched in her chair, “We have one man o war flag ship and 50 frigates in our fleet. 200 if we take every galleon in the kingdom, and outfit them with scorpions, ballistas and culverins. Kul'Tiras alone has 400 frigates, not to mention over two dozen man o' wars, at active duty any given time.”

“Kul'Tiras won't attack us.”

“No, but If you were some malevolent overlord, looking for a seaborne invasion, would you attack Kul'Tiras, or would you attack us?”

“You underestimate us way too much. We are not that weak.”

“We are not as strong as most of us think and that's dangerous.”

They sat in silence for a while after that. Eventually Lor'themar asked his leave and left. Once more alone, Sylvanas had nothing to do but battle her own mind, _“You should go back to the spire.” _Ah, the spire, not home. Because it wasn't home anymore. Not a single family member waited for her there. Over 11 dozen staff members, several horses, hawkstrides, dragonhawks and gryphons of the best breed and a decently sized treasury full of coins, gems and precious metals. But not a single Windrunner. The more she thought, the worse she felt. Heavier, deadlier emotions from the council gathering returned. Feeling a shortness of breath, she shot from her seat and marched out of her office. She muttered some basic orders about next week's paperwork to Ranger Captain Avareth, and made her way to the magister's office, asking for a portal back to the Windrunner Spire.__

____

____

Being back did not do her any favors. Sharp pulsating in her head had made a comeback by the time she reached her chambers. Holding her temple, she tried to calm down. Tomorrow, she had to go back and fulfill her usual duties. Being a mess like this, sitting at the edge of losing her control was not sustainable. She needed to accept the things as they were, swallow her pride, and do what a Ranger General was suppose to do. _“Why?” _Because she was the Ranger General of Silvermoon, she took an oath, to serve and protect. _“Why?” _Because that was her family's ancestral duty, their legacy. _“But your family is dead.” _No. They were not dead. As long as she lived, as long as her sister drew breath, and their nephew, House Windrunner was not dead. _“Your sister and your nephew don't count, remember?” _They counted for her. For her, but not for the people she owed her vows to. Quel'Thalas demanded she remained loyal, but did not believe her to be loyal. They demanded her life's blood, but did not let her have the means to actually do her job. They demanded she fights for the kingdom, but she couldn't even have her own sister in her own estate.________

_____ _

_____ _

No, this line of thought was dangerous, _treasonous _even. But she had it all the same. Realization made her gulp, like she could physically swallow her own feelings. Instead she made herself nauseated. Taking in deep breaths, half bent, her hands on her knees, she tried to get herself together. Family, honor, duty, she needed to uphold them all. But her family was lost to her. Her honor was in question, the King and his council trusted her as much as they trusted a half witted kitchen wench. And her duty, she was not allowed to carry on, only play pretend...__

____

____

What was she even doing here? What was the point of this charade? So that she can _prove her worth _to her King, his council, his son and the people? The King who was getting increasingly bigoted, a council that did nothing but feed his worse impulses, an absentee prince and the people... people who would spit on her face and call her a whore if she were to tell them whom she loved.__

____

____

She almost barfed at that last one. For a moment she got angry, but then, she was just tired. Tired of everything and everyone. _“What's the point? Why even bother?” _yes, there was no point in bothering anymore. She had enough of this suffocating prison. Standing up straight, she marched back out, all the way down to out of the spire and towards the stables. Visca jumped at her sudden arrival, but she didn't care. Telling him she wouldn't be returning for the night, maybe even more, she saddled one of the gryphons herself and left.__

____

____

Being on the air was better. Much better. But half of it was her destination. Report schedules be damned, she would see Nathanos tonight. He should have been at the stead for the night, but if he wasn't, she could always search the land for him. She was a ranger, that's what she did for a living. And at the very worst, hunting him would be fun. Like the old days, back when she first started to train him to be a proper Farstrider.

She made her landing before arriving to the stead, in one of the Farstrider lodges beyond the border between Quel'Thalas and Lordaeron. Leaving the gryphon in the stable there, she started walking for the rest of her journey.

She saw him long before he could hear her. He was leaning on the wooden fence, cleaning one of his hunting knives. The very sight of him made her feel stronger. Nathanos was not an imposing man, she was maybe less than half inch shorter than him, yet his presence was still reassuring. Back when she was still in denial of her own feelings, she would tell herself that it was his beard. Lush, almost reddish auburn beard and mustache, combined with his repeatedly broken nose and eternal scowl, he could easily scare any men or women he wanted. And he liked scaring people. He was like a wild beast, hostile to any person who got too close. Perfect companion for a ranger strong enough to tame him. Perfect for her.

She let him notice her presence. It was a game. Every time she visited him, she would let him notice first and then wait for him to open the dialogue. He never failed to amuse her with his absolute lack of manners.

“Came to give me my notice of discharge?”

“Properly salute your Ranger General damned it.”

“Ah, if you are still my Ranger General then I am not getting kicked out,” Nathanos turned to her with an exaggerated show of slamming his right fist onto his chest. Her face must have looked awful, because his usual grumpiness disappeared upon seeing her, eyes filling with concern instead, “Sylvanas, what happened?”

She walked to his side, to lean on the wooden fence with him. She stayed there for a moment, breathing in the earthy smells of the surrounding stead, trying to find her balance of mind. Nathanos came closer and kept silent. He looked like a scared puppy, worry apparent in his face.

“Let's go hunting.”

He stood up straight at her words, mind going into duty mode, “Trolls?”

“No. Let's just go hunting. There is suppose to be decent game here.”

He grabbed his bow without even a moment of hesitation, yelling at his uncle, “I WON'T BE JOINING THE DINNER! DON'T WAIT UP.”

And with that, they were on the road. Nathanos took the lead in this case, these were his lands, his territory. Sylvanas followed silently, drinking his presence. He did not ask what was wrong again. Nathanos knew when to give her space, let her do her talking when she chose. She let herself be absorbed in the moment of simplicity. She wanted to touch him, to feel his warmth. Play with his unkempt beard, his messy hair. She wanted to hear his heartbeat, the reassurance that he was alive and this was real.

Later, not now. Now, it was time for hunting: To find a beast and defeat it in the most final manner. To take the most primal victory, to prove to herself that she was strong, capable and alive. No more suffocating, no more nausea. As they tracked the trace of a deer and fell onto its tail, Sylvanas felt as confident and healthy as she had ever been. The cloud of sickness and weakness that had haunted her for the last couple of months dispersed, and when she made the killing shot, she was fully herself again, Sylvanas Windrunner, the hunter.

Nathanos lead them to an area he apparently used for camping before, and they quickly set to the task of properly working their prize: Hanging it from a tree, they skinned and gutted the deer. After cutting a decent portion for their dinner, they prepared for smoking the rest, so as not to waste its meat. With their smoking pit under Nathanos' control, Sylvanas turned to the makeshift brazier and started cooking their meal. Minutes bleed into hours. They worked on their respective cooking duties, speaking only for asking necessities. She had forgotten to take any ale with her, but Nathanos had a few bottles buried at the other side of the tree they had done their skinning. Eating, drinking, checking the smoking pit, it was a careless, worriless, simple time.

Once they decided that the meat was properly smoked, they set it to cool. Their makeshift brazier had already burnt down, now turned into a proper campfire. Cleaning both their tools and themselves in the stream nearby, their actions were almost wholly domestic. That filled Sylvanas with more longing than anything else.

When they returned to the camp, they sat side by side in front of the fire, giving their backs to a tree. She leaned to his side, putting her head on his shoulder without even thinking. He tilted his head to touch her with his cheek.

“They gave the control of our defenses to the Magistrecy,” she almost sounded like a disappointed child.

“Did they do anything to you?”

“I am not technically demoted. But they restricted the Ranger Army in every way and set the magisters loose.”

“Hmmm... That's not what's bothering you.” It was not a question, it was a statement.

“They said I was not trustworthy. Because...” Sylvanas pressed herself closer to Nathanos, hand grabbing onto his leather armor.

He was perfectly still for a moment. “Then you should kick me out of the Farstriders and be done with me.”

“No.”

He shifted to face her, “Why? If I am a hindrance to you, to the well-being of your family, your legacy, then I don't want to be a ranger.”

She looked into his eyes, and saw the seriousness of his words. She already knew he did not care for his vows other than that he made them to her. It made her want to keep him all the more.

“No.”

“Sylvie, I am not worth it.”

“But you are. Why should I give you up? What for? My family is almost dead. My only sibling and nephew are both in exile. You're all I have left. Why should I give you up?”

“I am not your family.”

“You can be.”

She was only half surprised at the words that came out of her own mouth. If they were going to belittle her work and refuse to give her the proper respect anyway, then she had no reason to deny herself the things she wanted. Things she never dared before because of a false sense of propriety.

Nathanos was silent in shock, his bearded mouth half open. He blinked a few times, trying to steady his breathing. “I am 44. I maybe have a good decade in me and then one more shitty one at most. You'll live well over a millennium, so will your people. Don't burn those bridges for me.”

“You have two good decades in you at least and then more,” she smiled, “And I don't care about spending one more day with them if it means never seeing you again.”

“We did not have that much ale.”

“I am not drunk.”

“You make no sense. What do I have that I can give you? Nothing. That farm isn't even mine, my uncles run it.”

“I know that already and I don't care.”

“You are a lady.

“I am a ranger. I lived in wilderness for years.”

“You can live in the woods for centuries I know. But you deserve better. Better than being a simple farmer's wife.”

“You are not a farmer. And who said anything about staying here? We can leave, go anywhere we want.”

“Sylvie, what has gotten into you?” 

She took a deep breath to steady herself for a moment. And then let it all out, “I'm tired Nathanos. I'm tired of hiding, of chewing my own thoughts, of denying my own feelings. I'm tired of trying to be useful to people who do not care for it. World has gone mad. Stupid and mad. And I am sick and tired of being the only sane one. I lived my life for my family and my homeland. Now my family is almost gone and my homeland does not want my services. All the politics, the narrow mindedness, the lack of foresight. They have more ambition than wits and I am the loser at every turn. I want to be with my family, I want to see my sister, my nephew... Damn, I avoided seeing little Arator for nearly 7 years now, and what for? What did it earn me? They despise me all the same. I don't want to ignore myself anymore. I want what I want and I want you. I want a life with you, one we could have if only we were to just leave.”

Nathanos gulped. His face was stuck in somewhere between longing and fear, his voice was rougher than usual, “You... I... Could we even... I am not worthy of this I am sure.”

“But do you want it?”

“Sylvie...”

“Answer the question and let me be the judge of your worth.”

He made a half laugh at that. He had tears in his eyes as he spoke, “Do I want it? Do I want what I never even dared to dream about? You know I want you. You know I want all the silly, lovely things with you. But I swore to myself, that I would be by your side and be your champion, your strength. That if I ever were to be a burden for you, I would leave. And now... You tell me they sabotaged your station because of our affair and tell me you want to...”

“They sabotaged themselves, because they freak out at the idea that other people could be like us. That's their true reasoning for leaving the Alliance. That someone somewhere might fall in love with another race and have half blooded children.”

Nathanos looked like she stabbed him in the gut, “Children...”

Sylvanas sat up straight. There was no point in denying anything, not anymore. Not to herself, and not to him. “Nathanos, I want to raise a family with you.”

He took in what she said. She waited with bated breath, watching him wage battle in his own mind. He looked at her straight in the eye. And then, after a moment that felt like an eternity, his familiar grumpiness and roughness returned, bringing relief to her ,“Where?”

She blinked. “Dalaran maybe? Vereesa is there.”

“A _city _of _mages _, just kill me here.”____

_____ _

_____ _

“How about Stormwind then? Plenty of forests and grassland. We can pick a piece of land within a town proper, close enough to have the perks of civilization, far away enough that it's still within nature. And Arator is there too.”

He gave her a proper smile then. His was always stuck between a smirk and a grin, but his eyes shone through, “Stormwind it is.”

And with that, it was done. They had just taken a step in their life that until now, they never thought they would. They sat there face to face for several moments, letting it all sink in. This time he was the one who broke the silence, “I am almost certain that I've just gone mad and conjured this up in my head.” He had a silly joy on his face that made him look like an exited puppy. 

Sylvanas gave him a devilish smile, “Oh dear, you couldn't possibly imagine this.” Sylvanas leaned forward and kissed him on his lips. And then again, then again and again.

Soon she was sitting on his lap, their kisses were deeper and breathless. They took a few seconds to look at each other and then started to dress off. Their cloaks were the first to go. His upper body armor was a single piece made from leather plate, covering his arms and torso. It was much simpler to take it off so they started with that. Next, it was her gauntlets, then pauldrons and then vambraces... Piece by piece they were stripped off their armor.

Sylvanas stood up and started to unbuckle her belt. Nathanos put his hands to the sides of her trousers, “May I?”

With all the patience of a predator savoring the hunt, Sylvanas let him strip the piece of clothing off of her. For a moment she stood there, relishing having his full attention on her. Not breaking eye contact, she took off her linen shift. 

Nathanos mimicked her with his own shirt. Left only in his trousers, he waited for her command. She did not disappoint, “Lie down on your back.”

When he did as he was told, Sylvanas prowled over him, getting just close enough to his lips like she was going to kiss him and then pulling away in an instant and going for his pants instead. As he made a little growl of annoyance at her trick, she took those off too.

Once that was done, Sylvanas straddled him. She put her hands on his lower torso and then began moving them up towards his chest, enjoying the contact at every moment. Nathanos was exceptionally hairy even for a human. His chest, his belly, his shoulders and even some of his back was covered in thick auburn colored hair. He was like a bear, her bear.

She lied down on him and they began kissing again. They both had their hands all over each other, desperate to touch more. She could feel that his manhood was hard against her. Instinct took over and she started pressing and moving against him. He responded by moaning and kissing her even harder.

After a while he stiffened and pushed her shoulders up, breaking their lips apart, “If you keep doing that I'll just...”

She laughed breathlessly, “It's alright,” and kept going. Soon after he shuddered, moaning into her mouth, ruining his underwear.

“Well, that was a shameful fucking performance,” he was flushed.

“Oh don't worry, happens to every men,” she was having too much fun teasing him.

“Still, I would like to set things right,” he moved his hands to the side of her arms, “Allow me to return the favor.”

She let him motion her onto her back. Now he was on top. He first captured her lips with his, and then moved to the side of her mouth, then down on her chin, then on her neck... He kissed her all the way down to her linen underwear. With his hands ready to pull it down, he looked at her. When she nodded in approval, he began to slowly take them off. Once freed of the clothing, she spread her leg slightly, inviting him.

Nathanos positioned himself between her legs and kissed her there without a moment's delay. She couldn't help a little yelp escape her at the contact. His beard was brushing up against her in the most sensitive place, while his mouth was hot and soft against her core. Soon he took two fingers and licked them to make them properly wet. When he added them to the effort her mind went blank. He was touching all the rights spots with all the right amount of pressure. His tongue, his lips, his fingers and the tingling caused by his mustache, it was all too much and not long after Sylvanas broke with a loud cry of pleasure she didn't bother suppressing.

While she still saw the world with a blur, Nathanos sat up, took one of the ale bottles and guzzled down whatever was left in it. When he came down on to lie on her, she kissed him, tasting the ale and herself on his mouth. It was weird, but not unpleasant. They resumed their caressing, yearning to feel more.

Her right hand wandered down and found his manhood. He breathed sharply at her touch, his earlier efforts had him hard once more. When he pressed against her, Sylvanas pushed away his shoulders, breaking their kiss, “I want to ride you.”

Nathanos gave her another kiss and granted her wishes. After he lied on his back, Sylvanas straddled him and her hands continued to explore his body. She pulled his chest hair a bit, earning herself a little gasp from his mouth. Going down to catch his lips with hers, she took his manhood in her hand again. After making sure he was ready, she sat up and rose herself and positioned him at her entrance. He put his hands on her hips, motioning her down. 

When she lowered herself on him, they were both stunned for a moment. Breathing loudly, they tried to regain control over the sensation. Sylvanas felt complete, whole. Everything made sense now: Of course she was a wreck these past months, of course she was lost, drowning. She wasn't missing another person, she was missing the other half of her soul. She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her with all the want and passion a man can muster. She put her hands over his chest and began moving.

It was all too much and too little at the same time. They wanted to feel more, to touch more, to breath each other in. Sylvanas came to lie on him as their lips met once more. When she pushed herself up to take a breathe and keep her momentum, he took the opportunity to pay proper attention to her breasts. She held onto his head at the sensation of his mouth, her finger grasping his hair tightly.

They kept moving in a rhythm they found to be appropriate for their touching and kissing. As they got closer to that edge, Nathanos brought his fingers to his own lips to lick them, but Sylvanas caught his wrist. Instead, she pulled his hand up to her own lips and sucked them. Nathanos bit down a loud gasp and sent his fingers to touch her down there.

The added sensation was almost too much. She lied down on him again, kissing feverishly. They held each other tight. Her breasts pressed against his chest, the feel of his hair against her was both scratchy and ticklish, making her press even harder, desperate to increase contact. That did it for the both of them as they fell down that cliff, moaning into each other's mouth.

They stayed that way for several moments, panting and trying to collect their wits. Once they came down from their high, they remained as they were, heart beat on heart beat, enjoying the intimacy. But the night was chilly and their campfire was about to go out. So Sylvanas spoke up almost disappointedly, “It's getting cold here.”

“Maybe for you,” Nathanos chuckled.

“Ah, pardon me, I have forgotten you are a bear. You have your fur.”

Nathanos laughed out loud at that. Smiling herself, Sylvanas got up and made her way to the stream from earlier. He took a moment to add another log to the fire and blow on it to strengthen its flames. Once it caught on, he too got up and joined her in the stream.

Water was bitingly cold, but they still took their time to properly wash themselves. After they were done, they ran back to the side of their campfire. Drying themselves with their linen towels, they quickly redressed. Rolling their wool on leather mats open side by side close to the fire, they took their blankets and huddled under.

Sylvanas pressed her back against Nathanos, fitting her head under his arm. Nathanos brought his other arm around to hold her close. She put her hand over his, their finger intertwined.

“I love you,” she said with relief, free from all the worries of the past several years.

“I love you too,” he responded, kissing her temple.

There were so many things needed sorting out. So much more work to do, and all the confrontations and struggles that were sure to follow their decision. However, in that moment, they did not care, all of those could wait until tomorrow. For this one night, they were happy and content just being with each other. Mind full of hope about their future, they fell asleep smiling.


	2. LEGACY

CHAPTER TWO: LEGACY

After every decision, comes the task of implementing them. When they woke up the next morning, Sylvanas and Nathanos sat down and had a proper talk on how they were going to actualize their commitment. They came up with a decent plan, however, it required for them to remain separate for a while longer, and specifically, it required that they kept everything a secret until they were ready to leave. Letting anyone know, even family, had the potential to cause a lot of trouble, all sorts of setbacks and petty insistences were sure to be thrown their way. Sylvanas needed to sort her affairs: The Windrunner lands and properties, people working there and the family fortune all had to be dealt with. For his part, Nathanos had to ready himself for a lengthily journey, cover his necessities and prepare to part ways with his family. So they said their goodbyes, for now, and went back to their respective residences. 

Sylvanas was fearful at first. She was afraid that on her return, the Spire would look warmer and like a home again. Afraid that her decision would lift some sort of an enchantment and endear her family estate once more, making her regret her own resolve. Instead, the place looked even emptier and colder. With her mind made up over what her heart had long desired, her former home had lost whatever tiny grip it had on her. She took that as validation, that her decision had been right and true. Not a hastily made jump, but a bridge she had been building for years.

She had sent written orders to her other Ranger Lords, delegating her duties at the capital to them. Ranger Captain Avareth was tasked with helping Lor’themar as he was the primary regent. It was something she had done before, and they had no heavy or urgent business waiting for them yet, so Sylvanas was sure that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. She needed the time. For two weeks now, she had been buried in the old law books in the library of the Spire. Going over every bit again and again, taking detailed notes, making sure she wouldn’t get blindsided by anything. Because when the time came for her to finally go out there and make her declaration, there would be no going back. 

She immediately noticed how easy it was for her to just leave: As long as she gave everything up she could depart from the kingdoms permanently at any moment, there were no arrangements needed. However, that did require her to give everything up, and that just wouldn’t do. For one, it would leave all the people serving her high and dry without any security. They would be in His Majesty’s mercy and Sylvanas did not want them to suffer for any misguided sense of revenge over a perceived insult her actions may cause. Secondly, it would leave her quite vulnerable. She did want to take certain things with her, certain family memorabilia and an appropriate sum of funds to help rebuild her life elsewhere. 

With these in mind, she charted her course of action: First, she used her powers as the Ranger General of Silvermoon and the Grand Seigneur of the Windrunner Estate to establish a new company of rangers based on her domain. All 100 of her guards were appointed to this new company. Second, she attached her housekeeping staff to this new company as cooking, cleaning and stable personnel. Third, she granted the Windrunner Spire to the company as their headquarters. Fourth, Sylvanas took two of the gryphons for herself and left the rest of the saddle beasts to her former guards as their new mounts. Fifth step was a bit tricky: She needed to reserve them a proper budget, however, in order to make sure her arrangements were kept up after her departure she also needed to pay a ransom to the Crown. That ransom would be based on the entirety of the family wealth and once she went and declared her abdication and renunciation of her inheritance, she wouldn’t be able to go back and withdraw from the family vaults. And emptying the treasury now would mean the newly established company wouldn’t have any funding. As a solution, Sylvanas endowed the Windrunner lands and the income they brought to the High Command and then diverted a portion of its budget towards paying for the new unit’s expenses.

Once she drafted the necessary orders, all that was left was to select the things she would take with her and more importantly, manage the timing. Sylvanas opened up the family vaults and picked the memorabilia and artifacts she was going to keep: Her mother’s signet ring she already wore, another set of three dozen rings, bracelets, necklaces and pendants, two sets of enchanted ceremonial armor and Alleria’s old identification badge left from back when she first became a Farstrider. The last one was neither magical nor particularly expensive. It was a simple silver piece, yet it had sentimental value: Aside from the two necklaces she and Vereesa had, this one was the only item left from her, and Sylvanas would be damned if she didn’t give it to Arator. The boy would have a memento of his mother.

The timing part was more about patience and keeping up appearance than anything else. She would not be able to give any orders after she abdicated. That meant that she had to make sure her plans were already put into effect before she severed her ties to the kingdom. Lucky, the schedule of the council was in her favor. The nearest time for His Majesty to hold court and accept petitions would be four weeks after the last disastrous one. Sylvanas completed all the necessary work a week before that, and made her first announcement: Her relocation to Silvermoon and the new structure concerning the Windrunner Estate and staff. It came as a shock and a surprise to her people, but not so much as to cause them to dig deeper. Technically speaking, when her demands about recruitment and mercenaries were rejected, they also rejected her offer to pay in a roundabout way too. However, it was never explicitly stated, and when she read the records released after the gathering, she realized, much to her delight, that they hadn’t added any mandates against it. It was the perfect cover: Her granting of personal fortune and property, along with establishment of a new ranger company were just rebellious enough that they would draw all the attention, but not too rebellious as to cause alarm in her opposition. She had another set of living quarters in the capital already and the decision to move there would be seen as a typical attempt to curry favor with the court and increase influence. They all knew she needed it after her resounding defeat.

When Sylvanas got to her offices for the first time in three weeks, the three Ranger Lords were waiting for her there. Renthar and Halduron were excited, because they assumed all of this was the start of a renewed push back against the Magistrecy. She told them there was no plot in her mind and this was merely about her own personal life. That disappointed the two, and the deception brought shame to Sylvanas, yet she endured it all the same. Lor’themar on the other hand, looked relieved. One of his closest friends was a magister named Dar’Khan Drathir and every time the High Command and the Magistrecy banged heads, his relationship suffered. Well, he would be soon be spared the danger of that happening ever again. Lor’themar was the most likely candidate to replace her. He was both the most qualified and the best connected: A moderate voice in contrast to her more headstrong approach, more traditionalist in his political views, the head of one of the oldest ranger families and a good friend to both a rising magister and the adopted daughter of High Priest Vandellor who was a close ally to Grand Magister Belo’vir himself. Perfect for the Crown. It would be a huge surprise to her if he wasn’t selected.

Spending the week while keeping her plans a secret had been easier than she had thought. Putting a final date to her wait made it more bearable. The real trick had been not to dwell on what the reactions would be. They would come when they come, and she would brave through them. For at the end of this tunnel, was more than just light: It was the beginning of her new life. In the eyes of the people of Quel’Thalas, The Windrunners would be a dead family, but in truth, they would be reborn somewhere else. 

The morning of the court’s opening, she wore her ceremonial Ranger General armor, complete with the golden and sapphire brooch that was the official regalia of her seat. On her hip, bound in silver chains, was the enchanted family icon, the symbol of their status as nobles and members of the Sunstrider Court: A white steel sword engraved with their oath of loyalty and service, it had a golden handle shaped to look like an eagle spreading its wings, with a large emerald at its pommel. 

She had left her residential chambers early, sooner she got this matter done the better it was. Yet when she arrived at the hall, she saw that she was not the first: Lady Ar’nareth and Lord Voren’thal were both there and engaged in a heated conversation with Grand Magister Belo’vir and Lord Astalor.

“I understand that you challenged him to a duel, but he doesn’t have to accept. That’s how it works. And he already offered to pay tribute to you. We cannot force him into a fight! Besides, it is forbidden to duel in His Majesty’s city,” Belo’vir irritatedly explained.

“We’ll fight in Lady Ar’nareth’s estate and of course you can force him,” Lord Voren’thal spat back. He had a robe in his hands, its collar was clearly bloodied. He waved it in front of Grand Magister aggressively, “He spilled blood! I don’t want his damned coin! I want my duel, and the laws are clear: You spill a nobles’ blood, you either pay tribute or accept their challenge! I have proof of his assault right here and I have a witness too,” he said, pointing towards Lady Ar’nareth.

“Your proof could have easily been conjured and your witness is suspect,” Lord Astalor had clearly not learned his lesson about messing with the wrong people.

Lady Ar’nareth gave him an icy look and turned directly to His Majesty, “This one insults me. I demand a duel as well, with him.”

King Anasterian was frowning, his mouth was curved downwards in apparent displeasure, “There will be no duel, for anyone.”

Lord Voren’thal’s face was puffed, “But-”

“There is no but. What is going to happen if you duel him? Hmm?”

“We will fight with honor and the loser will be forced to grovel!”

“You will kill him is what’s going to happen. You are a magister of exceptional power, he is average with Arcane and hopeless with everything else. He will die and then I will have a blood feud in my hands. My answer is no and that is final. He will pay your tribute and you will let this one go. You are almost as old as me Voren’thal, Songweaver is young enough to be your great grandchild and has an even younger boy to raise.”

The two nobles were visibly angry and disappointed, yet they made no further objections. Bowing rather indignantly, they turned to leave. Lady Ar’nareth noticed her standing just one step in from the gate and raised an eyebrow. As she walked passed Sylvanas she spoke in a hushed tone, “They won’t accept your challenge for a duel if that’s what you came for.” She gave a small smile at that. No, that wasn’t why she was here for. And what she was about to demand, they had no authority to reject. She had checked.

After they were gone, the herald announced her arrival and she approached the throne. Realising she was clad in full regalia, Grand Magister Belo’vir and Lord Astalor raised their chins and looked rather worried. Ignoring them, she went down on both knees and prostrated in front of His Majesty with hands on the ground at both sides of her head: More than just an exaggerated show of respect, it was used to signal a demand for audience in matters of blood and oaths.

“You may rise,” King Anasterian’s face was hard with anticipation of something unpleasant.

“Your Grace, I have come to declare that I am abdicating the seat of the Ranger General of Silvermoon, and renouncing my rights to the Windrunner Estate and all its associated wealth and personnel.”

Silence ruled the hall for several long moments. Eventually, Astalor’s impudence broke through, “Oh come on now Windrunner! This is such an absurd show of petulance, no one is telling you to stop doing your job, enough with the exaggerations already!”

“Why? I know we had a terrible fight, but this is not necessary. We all know your capabilities, your are needed here, our goal isn’t to replace you,” Belo’vir looked and sounded upset.

His Majesty stared into her eyes and then commanded, “Leave us, all of you.”

Grand Magister was surprised but he quickly gathered himself and stood up. Pulling Astalor as well, they made their way towards the exit. The King looked around him and then spoke even louder, “I said all of you!” With that, everyone in the throne room, all the guards, scribes and servants jumped and started to leave. As the last of his royal guards exited, they closed the gates behind them. Only the King and Sylvanas remained.

King Anasterian waited a few moments before he spoke. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I no longer see a reason for myself to remain here. My only living family is in exile, and my services are clearly not needed no matter what Belo’vir says. I wish to be with my kin. That is all.”

“Your sister is married to a human. He will die in a few decades and she will return home. No need to fret,” his tone was dismissive and frustrated.

“Perhaps she will return, or perhaps she will stay there, with her children and their children and so on. She is not here now and I don’t want to be here either.”

“This will be the end of your line, do you understand that? There will be no House Windrunner if you do this.”

“My line won’t end here and my family will live on.”

“Ah… So that’s what this is about. You want to go play with a stunted Vyrkul spawn as well. Go play as you please, we’ll relieve you of your duties for a few years, then once you had your fun, you can come back.”

“With all due respect Your Majesty, I don’t think you understand me fully: I am leaving forever, no matter how many millennia pass, I won’t return. I’ll rebuild my life and my house elsewhere.”  
“Oh I understand it just fine, you and Kael’thas are both going through the same phase: You think you are in love with a rowdy peasant because he can wield a bow, he thinks he is in love with a glorified pirate’s daughter because she can conjure some Arcane tricks. Within the century those two will be buried underground and you two will come back to your senses.”

“I cannot speak for His Highness, but my decision is final.”

He sighed deeply at that and sunk in his throne. The next time he spoke, his voice was paternalistic and weary, “Listen, Sylvanas. Your mother grew up right beside my feet. I was the one who chose your father for her. She and I made plans for you, about your future and the future of this kingdom. Now, your dalliances with that man is distasteful to say the least. And your insistence for a larger army or fondness for the human kingdoms are definitely things worth of scorn. However, they are not the end of you. Those are youthful mistakes, they will pass. You are Lady Windrunner and the Ranger General, your place is here. And one day, you shall be Kael’thas’ queen, it will be your children who rule Quel’Thalas. Our great families will merge, the Crown will have the Ranger Army at its direct command and the House Windrunner will add its name to the royal dynasty.”

Sylvanas took it all in. There was nothing there that she hadn’t already known. In fact, she was certain she had listened to this exact same speech from her late mother the first time her affair with Nathanos had come to her attention, due to Kael’thas’ proposal. She had agreed back then, even though she had rejected Kael’thas, she had it in her mind that one day she would wed someone fitting her family’s ambitions, if not Kael’thas, then another. It felt like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then, so much had changed. Her mother was dead now, along with the rest of her family save for one sister and one nephew. Her family had changed, and her ambitions too. Now, she only wanted one thing in life: To be with the ones she loved. To not waste even a single moment for life was fleeting. To have children with the man she fell for, and to watch them grow and their children after. Dynasties, royalties, inheritances, they were important for society surely. But not for her, not anymore. 

When she answered him, her voice was soft and determined, “I am deeply sorry to disappoint you Your Majesty, however, I can no longer fulfill that destiny. My heart belongs to someone else and my wants in life are not that grand. This title, this station, they are chains, burdens. They drag me down and suffocate me. If I stay, I’ll be miserable until I die. And I don’t see the virtue in enduring such a torment. His Highness will find himself a suitable spouse, your line will live on as the absolute rulers of Quel’thalas and I will keep my family alive in another realm, as another people. Windrunners were mere hunters before the first Ranger General Talanas rose up among the Farstriders. Someone else will rise after we are gone, and we shall survive without these privileges once more.”

King Anasterian looked way older than he did a moment ago. He kept quiet, eyes unfocused. Eventually he stroked his face a few times and then turned towards her, “Do as you please. It’s not like I have the power to stop you. When the day comes, you will be the one facing your ancestors and explaining to them what you have done. For your sake, I hope they are forgiving.”

With that, Sylvanas took off her brooch of the Ranger General and unbuckled the chain belt of the Windrunner Icon Sword. Lowering her head once more, she raised them above with both hands, presenting them to the King. He took it after a moment and gave her leave. When she got out of the throne room, a not so small crowd was gathered, other petitioners and some of her, now former, rangers. As soon as she exited, the royal advisers, guards and servants went back inside in a rush. She passed by them without paying attention to the increased murmurs and fingers pointed at her direction, and made her way towards the treasury to pay her ransom. It didn’t take long for a scribe to arrive with the official paper. She signed and put her seal on one last time, and lead them to her soon to be emptied chambers. Once they took the chests filled with coins and gems, she closed the door and changed out of her Ranger General Armor, into more casual hunter clothes and began gathering her luggage.

Before she could leave the room, Lor’themar appeared at her door, face full of hurt and disbelief, “You didn’t… You can’t…”

“I can and I did. It’s done Lor’themar. Let me congratulate you on your promotion early and let us say our goodbyes in a respectful manner.”

“Promotion? Where did that even come from? And… Why?”

“You will be the next Ranger General, you deserve it. They need to be way greater fools not to pick you and even I don’t think that lowly of them.”

She saw Halduron and Renthar turn the corner and rush towards her. Halduron was clearly confused while Renthar looked enraged. They both got visibly sadder as they got closer to her.

“What happened? What did they do?” Halduron exclaimed with almost childlike panic.

“They didn’t do anything. I have just realized that my place is no longer here.”

“Oh fuck that! We’ll go deck Astalor and Belo’vir too if he moves funny. We’ll go do that right now, this is absurd!” Renthar was as serious as he had ever been about violence. 

“There will be no decking anyone,” Sylvanas said with an authoritative tone. “I abdicated my seat and renounced my family inheritance. I am no longer a noble or a citizen. Now, I need to leave before I get kicked out.”

The three Ranger Lords stopped exactly where they were, looking dejected. The sight got to her, bringing out tears she did not know she was holding. She held it in and calmed herself, “I’m sorry. I really am. But I don’t want to be Ranger General anymore. And the things I want, I cannot have them here.”

The moment kept on stretching. She eventually made the first move, grabbing her luggage, she began walking out of the door. They let her pass then, looking down at their feet. As she put some distance between her and them, she resolved not to look back. There was nothing to say. Maybe one day they would meet again as friends and have a heartfelt talk about everything, however, right at that moment, there was no point in staying and prolonging the sorrowful tension.

She felt better as she walked and by the time she made it to the stables, she was already way too deep in excitement to feel anything else. Sylvanas saddled the two gryphons, loaded her trunks and chests on them, mounted one and took to air while commanding the other with a whistle. She flew past the ancient and great spires of Silvermoon, moving south. She went by the shoreline, saw the beaches and cliffs at the side of the Eversong Woods, the Windrunner Village and the Spire, the fields. Those sights had brought a certain nostalgia and melancholy, yet they couldn’t stop a sense of happiness and freedom from rising within. She felt like a silly school girl, like she was going away from some small town to chase her dreams instead of a self-imposed exile from her ancient homeland. Would her ancestors hater her for it, call her names and judge that she would not be allowed near them in the afterlife? Maybe. But Sylvanas weighed her choice and found that she didn’t care. In this life, they would build their own family and create their own legacy. And in death, If she was not allowed into that grand lodge, then she and Nathanos would set out on their own in the eternal fields, the Spirit of the Hunter would bless them all the same. 

She flew towards the Marris Stead, however that was not her exact destination. Her first stop was before reaching the farm in one of the hills. When she came within viewing distance, she saw a figure down there whom she guessed to be Nathanos. When she began to make her descent she could clearly see that it was him along his mastiffs. That put an unstoppable smile on her face, which she tried to subdue as her feet hit the ground.

“I’ll take that as you being too excited to see me instead of me looking goofy in civilian clothes,” Nathanos tried to sound offended, yet it was an impossible sell with that bashful smile on his face. 

“I am happy to see you,” Sylvanas said coyly as she started walking towards him.

“Stop, that was too sweet, completely unbecoming of you.”

“On the contrary, teasing you by using sheer sincerity is the best.”

“Look at you! Proud Sylvanas Windrunner telling a peasant that she is happy to see him with that look on her face! Your reputation as the unreachable lady is ruined!”

“Oh you just wait, I will tell everyone that peasant is my husband. I don’t know if a man can die of a red face, but I guess we’ll find out,” she was full of herself in the best way possible.

Nathanos got a serious face then, a smile still dancing in his eyes, “I won’t die, not now. Not when I got this chance with you. I’ll fight my way through Shadowlands if I must.”

When Sylvanas reached him, she did not stop and instead walked into a tight and loving hug. They stood like that for a while, drinking each other’s presence. She eventually spoke from his shoulder, “Fighting through Shadowlands sounds like you. However, the real question is if you can handle a few weeks and perhaps a few months in Dalaran.”

“I plan on using it to make you feel bad for me and cater to me in ridiculous ways.”

“Implying you haven’t been doing it via Silvermoon for years.”

“At least you know what you are getting yourself into.”

“You had doubts?”

“I had decided that if this was some fever dream, I didn’t want to wake up. And if it was because you have gone mad, then I didn’t mind going down the crazy road with you.”

She pulled her head back to look at him in the eye, “You are right for me Nat. As right as an arrow for a bow. As stars are right for the skies and as rivers are right for their beds. We belong together.”

He looked at her with deep breaths. “You have always had a way with words, but conversations have never been my strong suit. So…” Nathanos pulled something out of his pocket and presented it to Sylvanas.

She realised it was a white gold ring as she took it. Inside was a carving of two dogs at each side of two crossed arrows. Dogs were clearly mastiffs while the arrows were shaped like those of the standard ranger set of Quel’Thalas. 

“I made a little trip to Lordaeron City in your absence. I don’t do words, but you know I am good at maps and drawing other stuff as well, so…”

She looked at her hands. She still had her signet ring on her left hand and another one of her mother’s in the index finger of her right hand. She pulled the signet ring off and put it on her ring finger on the right. The ring Nathanos gave her went to the left. She could hear how loudly his heart was beating as he watched her. Sylvanas reached for a small velvet pouch at her side, “I got something for you as well.”

The ring had a large cushion cut aquamarine set on a broad sterling silver band. It belonged to her father. Back when she was a little child, she played with it so much and had forgotten it wasn’t hers. Her poor father had long conceded the jewelry to her. “You would cry when I tried to take it away, so I gave it up all together,” he had said to her once she was old enough to understand. She had kept it since then, not as a toy but as a remembrance. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to touch the item ever since her parents died. However, after coming from her meeting with Nathanos, after making the decision to be with him fully, she went and sought it from the vaults. It hadn’t hurt then, instead it brought warm memories of home and family.

Sylvanas presented the ring to Nathanos who took it and put it on with a certain difficulty. She feared it would be too tight, but once on, he was able to move it.

“I probably won’t wear this to be honest. I don’t know how rest of you do it, but if it isn’t a glove or a gauntlet, it feels irritating and heavy on my fingers.”

Sylvanas gave him a steely look, “You are not allowed to take it off on your life.”

Nathanos raised one eyebrow and then gave another look to the ring as he closed his hand in a fist, “I guess with a gem this big I can do way more damage when I punch someone,” he motioned his fist slowly like he was hitting something.

They shared a soft laugh over it and kept standing in the half hug. Eventually Sylvanas spoke, “Have you brought saddles for Rex and Bolt?” Two mastiffs raised their heads towards her upon hearing their names and she knelt to pet them. Normally serious hunting dogs, they were excited like puppies whenever she played with them.

“Right here,” Nathanos had turned towards his back where his belongings were. He had two trunks, one of them clearly had his gears and weapons. Next to them were two large baskets paved with cushions, they had leather straps around them. He moved to attach them to the gryphon she brought with her, “Hello there Malan’dal, you’re gonna carry some stupid dogs today, hopefully you won’t throw us off.”

Once Rex and Bolt were safely tucked, they mounted the gryphons and lifted off. The destination was Dalaran, and given how early the day started, it was a decent guess that they would make it to the City of Mages shortly after sunset if they did not stop. Two veteran rangers saw no reason to take a break and surely enough, the spires of Dalaran and Violet Citadel appeared just before sun went down. Landing to the stables, they paid for a week’s expense upfront for both the gryphons and the mastiffs and made their way into the city.

A small suspense crept up inside Sylvanas. Keeping everything secret meant not even her sister knew that they were coming. Granted, the plan was to go to stay at an inn anyway, however, she still wanted to see Vereesa and a part of her hoped she would be welcome in her house. As they moved further into the city towards more residential parts, people on the streets began to turn and look. Dalaran, like Silvermoon, did not sleep: The mages made sure it was fully functional and illuminated throughout the night. Kirin Tor, the ruling conclave of the magocratic nation, had its banners hanging from every archway and every tower, sigils upon them enchanted to glow. Visible from every point in the city, an exceptionally large banner bearing the crest of Lordaeron gold on blue was hoisted on top of the Violet Citadel. This was an Alliance city and Archmage Antonidas, the Grand Magus of Kirin Tor, made sure everyone knew that.

“Ah! Oooo fuck you Arelas what did you make me drink? I’m seeing the fucking Ranger General on the street!” a young High Elf in warrior training uniform stumbled in front of Sylvanas from a tavern. Before he could gather himself from the confusion, a taller man fully clad in battle gear grabbed him by the collar.

“Get your shit together! I accept to take your lot to drink for one night and you all start a ruckus.”

Before the older man could get him to stand straight however, a dozen more youngsters in uniform came out of the said tavern, all yelling and joking, visibly and audibly drunk. Taking advantage of commotion, Sylvanas and Nathanos quickly left them and continued on their way before anyone noticed that young trainee wasn’t really hallucinating.

“You are too damned famous did you know that?” Nathanos was somewhere between pissed and amused.

“I know that boy: Caladis Brightspear. He was a cadet in the Academy before Quel’Thalas left the Alliance. His family was one of those who chose to relocate outside of the kingdom.”

“Poor boy, he thinks he is hallucinating.”

Sylvanas gave him a smirk, “Arrogant chimp thinks he can see me in his dreams.”

“Oh they all do, whether they admit it or not. It has always been my pleasure to know that. Made me feel really lucky, and boosted my ego too, I won’t deny.”

“It strokes my ego too I must confess.”

“I know.”

Sylvanas’ smirk got devilish, “Now you have to take care of that all by yourself.”

Nathanos gave her the side-eye for a moment, and then grabbed her hand with his, coming even closer as they walked, “My husbandly prerogative,” he whispered in her ear.

Touche! Sylvanas put her hood up for the rest of the way. At last, they reached a street lined with identical three story buildings made from white stone. Each building had numbers on them with stairs that went all the way up to the third floor. Checking the numbers, they found the one they have been searching for.

Light was coming from the second floor window, however, Sylvanas remembered that the entire building was supposed to belong to Vereesa and Rhonin. So she reached for the bell and pulled. As it rang, they stood there, getting ever so closer to each other, seeking support. Sylvanas heard voices from inside the building, “Gotta be one of Ansirem’s runners. He just has to pester me until the job is done. He still treats me like I am some apprentice.” 

A displeased Rhonin Redhair ready to shoo away a poor runner opened the door, “Oh look who-”

Whatever quip he had in mind died on his lips, staring at the two of them blank for a moment.

“Hello Rhonin. Sorry to come unannounced at this hour, but can I see Vereesa?” Sylvanas decided it was best they spoke first.

“Ahp, a, of course! Of course come on in, not at all, just. I was surprised that’s all. Shitty apprentices of extremely paternalistic archmages are expected visitors in this house, but Ranger General of Silvermoon is a first! Please, come in whatever you are going to talk, just do it inside, it’s warm, we were just having dinner so join in, we got tea too, Vereesa has wine but I can bring some brandy as well!” Rhonin frantically gestured them inside, saying two dozen words in a second. 

As they made their way inside and moved towards upstairs, Vereesa appeared in the stairway, “What are you shouting about Ranger Genera-”

Vereesa froze for a moment, and then jumped on Sylvanas like she used to do back when they were children, “You’re here? You’re here! You came to visit! Oh Light you are here!”

Sylvanas managed to return the hug and not drop her overly excited little sister, “I am here and I am glad to see you are in good spirits as well.”

They just held onto each other for a few moments, murmuring words of endearment. Eventually Vereesa managed to collect herself and pulled away, “You are in, what, I haven’t seen you in civilian clothing for ages. I assume this is an off the record visit then?”

“Not exactly. In fact, why don’t we just go sit somewhere, we have much to talk.” 

“Of course, come up, we were just having dinner so join in,” Vereesa noticed Nathanos standing at the back, who moved towards the stairs. With a quizzical look on her face, she turned to Sylvanas.

“You really should greet people properly,” Sylvanas said in mock chastisement.

“Hi.” Nathanos had his most innocent face on, fooling absolutely no body.

Exchange confused Vereesa even further, who decided not to say anything. They reached the second floor and the moderately sized dining room it held. Rhonin quickly moved to make space for them on the table while Vereesa went where Sylvanas assumed the kitchen was, and brought more plates, silverware and cups. They all sat down as the red haired mage began serving their portions, “So, I am new to this cooking deal, I used to just eat at an inn or a tavern, therefore, it may not be as nice as you are used to. It’s just simple beef stew and we have some mashed potatoes on the side.”

“Did you burn it? If you didn’t burn it, it will be fine,” Nathanos was in a good mood, as he was prone to be when food was involved. 

“No, I did not burn it this time! Finding a recipe and sticking to it worked wonders. To be perfectly honest, the only reason it got burned the last time was because I was too engrossed in this book.”

Sylvanas looked at Vereesa with an amused expression of pity on her face. Vereesa responded with a smile of her own and whispered, “He is trying and he did improve.”

They began to eat and it was… not bad! Could definitely use some improvements, but it was a nice enough meal and Rhonin looked genuinely happy when they told him that. As they finished their dinner, he brought an expensive bottle of brandy and they each took a single. Looking over the glasses, Vereesa and her husband came to a silent agreement about their next course of action.

“So, we got this balcony on the third floor, not exactly a special view, but you can see the Violet Citadel and the stars too, I would love to show it,” Rhonin got up from his seat talking to the gruff ranger.

Nathanos gave a look at Sylvanas and then turned towards the mage, “Sure, lead the way.”

Once the two of them left the room, Vereesa turned to her elder sister, “Soooooo… What’s going on? Because I’m pretty sure I saw one of your rings on his finger.”

Sylvanas finished her glass and put it back on the table. “I abdicated the seat of the Ranger General and renounced the family inheritance. I am no longer a noble. I am no longer a citizen of Quel’Thalas. Nathanos and I are getting married, hopefully we will settle in Stormwind.”

Her little sister, the Little Moon of the family, stared at her with mouth agape. Several moments passed as she stayed stunned and Sylvanas did not interfere. Eventually Vereesa managed to shake off her surprise, “How? A-... Did they do something? Did they force you? Is it because of me?”

Seeing where her line of thinking was going, Sylvanas the Lady Moon interrupted, “No, they did not do anything of the sort. Though I must confess, the recent political dealings within the kingdom helped make the decision way easier. The thing is, at some point I just realized I was flailing for no reason. You’re here, little Arator is in Stormwind and the best staying at Quel’Thalas offered to me was to marry Kael’thas -I cannot be arsed to show up in one council meeting in a century- Sunstrider, maybe someday in the future. So I thought to myself, why bother? I love Nathanos and he loves me. Why waste that? I asked him to marry me, he accepted. We’ll stay in Dalaran in the meantime until we get an answer from Stormwind. We’ll go to some inn for lodging, however, I wanted to see you first. To tell you about it before you heard it from anyone else. And also, I have brought certain items from the Spire, some memorabilia I think you should have.”

The Little Moon looked at her with tears in her eyes and then leaned from her chair, giving her elder sister a hug, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even realise, I was so absorbed in my own affair I didn’t even know…”

Sylvanas returned the hug and put a kiss on her head, “It was not your burden to bear. And I am the one who kept it so quiet for so long.”

“Still, I knew about him. I knew, it was no secret, you told me just as much when I asked. Still, I never thought about it. I’m sorry. I should have asked you to come with me in the first place.”

The Lady Moon chuckled at that, “I wouldn’t accept back then, so rest easy. I think I needed it. To be left alone, in order to realise what truly mattered.”

They shared a sad laugh over it. Pulling their chairs until they were abutting, the conversation continued, “You are not staying at any inn by the way, that’s absurd. We have plenty of spare rooms here and I have missed you. Now, if you are saying you want to be alone with your new husband…”

Sylvanas burst into laughter over her sister’s implication. “I would love to stay with you as well, if that’s fine for Rhonin too. And we are also not yet married. We need witnesses and I thought you two would be great if you agree?”

“Are you joking with me? Of course we agree! When? Oh! We need to celebrate properly, just give me a few days, I can arrange something nice. We can have a large feast at the tavern district, most of the Quel’dorei diaspora here would love to attend!”

“No, no, no. Please. I appreciate the sentiment, however, I want this to be private. A small affair just within the family.”

“Oh, alright.” Vereesa had a sheepish smile, “Mine was crowded and loud. The noise made it more fun!”

“Glad it was good. It’s on the list of things I had needlessly missed. Hopefully, I won’t miss anything like that ever again.”

Vereesa leaned forward to the table, arms laid out on the surface with her chin resting on top of them, “You said Arator and Stormwind… We have been discussing bringing him here to live with us. We can do that, and then you two can stay as well, that way we will all be together.”

“I am sure Nathanos would bite it down and suffer it for me, however, I have already put him through enough hardships for all those years. Now it’s time for us to have something we both want. Besides, I don’t really like this city either. It’s like a cheaper, lousier Silvermoon.”

Her little sister seemed saddened by that, but she kept listening with a genuine smile on her face, “Dalaran is a major hub for politics between humans and elves. They have a deep and old relationship with Quel’Thalas. My presence here will always be too much. I want to keep things small from now on, it’s for the best.”

Vereesa snorted, “I don’t think you can do small,” she was terribly smug.

“Oh? And why do you think that way?”

“That’s not you, that’s not your nature,” suddenly, her face got clouded with dark shadows, “Lirath was quiet… And Alleria was loud enough for the entire family...” she brightened up as she continued, “But you… You have always been grand. Grand plans, grand gestures, grand ambitions… You are Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, now and forever.”

“Well you are wrong Little Moon, because currently I am not a lady. It’s just Sylvanas now.”

Vereesa had an extremely confident smile, “We’ll see about that. We’ll see…”

They kept on talking about all the things they have missed about each other’s lives. Sylvanas pulled the chest she brought to give Vereesa out of her backpack. Within were several precious items, tokens left from their parents and grandparents. Looking through the mementos brought up tears for both, but they didn’t mind shedding them in each other’s company. Eventually the two men were called from upstairs. When they came down, all four of them had a talk about what was going on and what they would do. It was decided that Sylvanas and Nathanos would stay with Vereesa and Rhonin during their time in Dalaran. One of the empty rooms was immediately arranged as a temporary study for Sylvanas and the only furnished guest room was designated as their bedroom. Satisfied with their arrangements, they retreated to their respective chambers. 

The next morning they had a cheerful breakfast together. Nathanos took over the kitchen for some Lordaeron specials and Rhonin joined as an apprentice. After they finished, Vereesa went for Alliance Army Offices, however, her mage husband had a more lax schedule. So he took off with Nathanos to go get some groceries in preparation of the lunch and the dinner. Sylvanas for her part, retreated into the temporary study given to her and began drafting her formal letter of request to Stormwind.

In theory, most human kingdoms had no rules stopping people from traveling to or settling down anywhere. However, that also meant the guards at the kingdom borders or even in any given town could just reject anybody. And in her case, she wasn’t some commonfolk figure who could just go wherever she wanted. Her presence had meaning, it had burdens and potential complications for anyone harboring her. That’s why she avoided Lordaeron altogether: Nathanos was a commoner there, she was self-exiled from one of their special allies that sit right at their border. It could sour the relationships between two kingdoms, or at the very least, put them through unpleasant hardships, perhaps even the humiliation of banishment. Dalaran was a safer bet, the mage city was famous for doing their own things and not caring for much else. A significant minority of High Elves deeply tied to the city as its native population, who also happened to be very pro-Alliance, meant that Dalaran could not afford to treat recent Quel’dorei exiles with disdain. Still, her presence could make it harder on everyone else and that, she would not have.

She had first blurted out Stormwind because she was thinking of Arator, however, the more she thought about it, the more it made sense: Stormwind had favorable relations with both Lordaeron and Dalaran, yet no real contact with Quel’Thalas. All of their dealings were based on the Alliance and with High Elven kingdom out, they basically had no diplomatic, military or economic ties. Which meant that any eri her presence might evoke, had little to no impact. A large kingdom with a lively countryside and a prominent armed forces, it was a place she and Nathanos could enjoy settling in and find appropriate work. On paper, they had other options, but in reality, those options were not actually sensible. They were planning on starting a family, various frontiers of the world were not fit places for raising children. And the other civilized lands mostly lacked the conditions they sought, they were also no more likely to accept them than Stormwind.

With all of these in mind, she eventually managed to pen a letter she was satisfied with. It was addressed to the Grand Marshal of Stormwind Army, Highlord Bolvar Fordragon. Sylvanas was going to send it through the Alliance garrison in Dalaran, as a volunteer for the Alliance Army. She would be technically asking for an admission and a transfer and she hoped they would answer favorably. Sylvanas took the letter to the Alliance Offices to be posted, and used the opportunity to see her baby sister at work. 

On her way there, Sylvanas didn’t bother to hide herself this time and in return she had several enthusiastic greetings, on top of most people looking at her and immediately descending into a chatter among themselves while pointing at her direction. This was deliberate on her part. She would have to live with this for a long while and maybe it would never truly end. She needed to get used to it. Vereesa blushed and looked embarrassed like a child when she saw her sister at the offices. This was the first time in a long while they had been in public without a strict hierarchy dictating their interactions. Seeing the respect and support shown at her Little Moon, Sylvanas was proud. It sunk in then, when she heard people call her Ranger Captain, when she sat in her quarter, with all the maps on the walls, documents on the desk and several additional pieces of combat gear right beside her, that Vereesa was not just a grown woman: She was a proper Farstrider, and a proper officer.

Following few weeks were spent in idle comfort. Two days after their arrival, Rex and Bolt were brought to Vereesa and Rhonin’s home to stay at her sister’s insistence. Sylvanas assumed she was seeking the company of some animal in the city, but was pleasantly surprised to see that her mage husband seemed just as joyful at their presence. The two mastiffs for their part, acted within the expected discipline from hunting dogs of their station, while still being as innocently happy and excited as they were wont to. Nathanos on the other hand, lasted only three more days before he collected his gear and decided to go out on a lengthily hunt. Sylvanas joined him of course, and enjoyed being out of the city and within nature, with him. It turned into a little camping trip during which they made private oaths of loyalty and love to each other and upon their return, they formally took their vows with a priest officiating, Vereesa and Rhonin as their witnesses. The coming days saw them settle into a routine: Morning breakfasts were had with the entire household. Afterwards, Vereesa and Rhonin went to their respective works while Sylvanas and Nathanos went out of the city, training and practicing their combat skills and then going for a proper hunt. They made sure to return before their hosts and prepare the dinner, mostly with fresh game meat. It was not a sustainable affair for the long term, however, it was ideal for their temporary visit.

Vereesa on the other hand, was quite certain it was sustainable. She kept her mouth shut however, les she agitated her elder sister to leave. Part of her, the selfish, spoiled little sibling part, wished that Sylvanas’ request would be rejected and they would stay here with her forever. A more rational part knew they wouldn’t stay even if they were not accepted by Stormwind, and she prayed they were just let in without much of a fuss. Her sister deserved to be happy. 

Vereesa’s work was more idle than she would like. They had their training sessions, yet any proper military exercise involving maneuvers were postponed after the partial dissolution a few months ago. They were eager to get them back on, however, the national leaders were less than thrilled. That meant most of her time was spent in her office, drafting petitions to ask for permission and handling other boring paperwork. It was during one such boring session, just slightly more than a month after her sister’s arrival, she heard a knock on her door.

“Come in.”

A private, one of those in reception duty, opened the door and saluted her, “Ranger Captain Windrunner, there is a Sorin Magehand here who wants to speak with you.”

-Magehand? Ah! Must be one of Lord Voren’thal’s bastards.-

 

Before she could speak, a tall High Elf man with long dark blue hair in purple-blue robes walked in, “Ah hi, I was hoping we could talk in private, Lord Voren’thal sent me here, I am supposed to meet up with some Joy Ar’nareth as well,” he had a sealed envelope in his hand.

“Of course, come on in. Thank you private.”

Private saluted her again and made his exit while Sorin walked in.

“Please, take a seat, “Vereesa gestured with her hand towards the chair in front of her desk.

The man took her offer and sat down. Looking at him, he couldn’t be older than herself. “What brought you here? I know Lord Voren’thal as a noble of Quel’Thalas, but I have no connection left with the kingdom.”

“I am here to join the Alliance Army and the Kirin Tor. I was hoping you could help.”

“You are a mage then?”

“I am.”

“May I ask why you are trying to join? As far as I know, Lord Voren’thal is still in the kingdom and the last I checked, he wasn’t particularly thrilled with neither the Alliance nor the Kirin Tor.”

“Ah, it’s...It’s a bit of a long story.”

“That’s what private talks are for.”

Hesitation crossed his face, then came the surrender, “Do you know of Lord Songweaver? Well, I had visited him in his estate about a week ago. We had an argument, things got heated, insults were exchanged. I challenged him to a duel, he accepted. We fought, he lost. Died. His Majesty did not like that and banished me from the kingdom. Lady Ar’nareth and Lord Voren’thal resolved to send me here, so, here I am.”

-A blood feud!? Great, just great. We didn’t have one this century, so of course, the gap was filled!- Vereesa sank into her chair, trying to calculate what needs to be done. Lord Voren’thal was no fan of the Alliance, or paying high taxes. Yet, he was a proud man and according to what Sylvanas had said, he was also not on pleasant terms with the current royal advisers. Lady Ar’nareth’s help meant that she was close with him and she was an ardent supporter of the Alliance, one of the few who were still in the kingdom. This was bad, she thought she should ask Sylvanas- No. Sylvanas wasn’t the Ranger General anymore, this was not her burden to bear. She would make the decision herself and deal with the consequences, whatever they were.

If she were to be perfectly honest, Vereesa had no real power to stop this Sorin from joining in. She could only recommend for or against or simply stay out of it. The decision still lied with the High Command. However, it was obvious her actions here would determine her and in extend the diaspora’s relationship with Lord Voren’thal and perhaps even with Lady Ar’nareth. Well, the Crown hated them all the same. They were all traitors in their eyes. So accepting in one more exile wouldn’t significantly increase animosity, rejecting one wouldn’t also appease them. But a show of solidarity here could help gain Lord Voren’thal as an ally, or least drop him from the enemy list. And since he apparently had a far closer relationship with Lady Ar’nareth than she had known, perhaps they could forge a an anti-isolationist axis there? Vereesa looked at the envelope in his hands, “May I see the contents of that?”

Sorin looked at his hand and after a short deliberation shrugged, “They didn’t tell me it was to be kept secret, so I assume it should be fine.” He extended the document to her.

She opened it by breaking the seal. Reading the letter inside quickly showed it was simple instructions. This Joy Ar’nareth was apparently a granddaughter of the esteemed lady. Written from the mouth of the lady herself, it was telling her to help Sorin get in the Kirin Tor and the Army, adjust to life in Dalaran and provide him with accommodations. Satisfied, she rang the bell on her desk, “Very well. I shall send your letter of recommendation within the week.”

“Thank you very much Ranger Captain,” He thrust his hand out, she took it and shook as she answered the knock on her door, “Do come in.”

The private from earlier opened it, saluting her, “You called Ranger Captain?”

“Yes, take…” Vereesa looked at Sorin for appropriate titles.

“Just Sorin.”

“You take Sorin Magehand here and accompany him to the Violet Citadel. He is to meet with Joy Ar’nareth of the Kirin Tor,” Vereesa scratched a quick note on a piece of paper as she spoke, stamped it with the seal of her seat and she extended it to the exiled mage, “This should help them show you around.”

“Thank you again Lady Windrunner,” Sorin expressed polite gratitude one last time as he made his way out of the room.

Just as they were leaving, another receptionist arrived at her office, with a man and a woman at her side. The duo was clad in full plate armor, carrying their helmets under their arms. The armors were clearly enchanted, they had Stormwind tabards made of expensive and sturdy cloths. The way they glowed meant that they were enchanted too, along with the dark blue cloaks they wore. The brooches attached to their cloak clips showed that they were Commanders, easily outranking her. She reflexively stood at attention and saluted them.

Private spoke in full salute, “Commander Jacob Alerius and Commander Andrea DeSousa, here to speak with you Ranger Captain.”

The one named Commandes Jacob pushed passed the poor receptionist, “We’ll do so in your quarters, just the three of us.”

Before Vereesa could react, Commander Andrea also got in the room and closed the door behind her, leaving a confused rank and file soldier out.

“Well, at ease Ranger Captain,” Commander Jacob made his way to her desk and gestured for her to sit down. 

Vereesa sat down in her chair as the two Commanders did so in front of her desk. Jacob continued, “We are here by the direct order of Highlord Fordragon. He will be arriving at the city in two days time, to speak with your sister Lady Sylvanas Windrunner. We need you to secure a date and an appropriate place for the meeting.”

Commander Andrea took a sealed scroll out of the bag hanging from her side, “The instructions for the meeting and the necessary security measures are here. It will be a private affair and no one will be allowed in until they are done. We will be here in Dalaran and help you with preparations. We can trust you shall inform your sister, right?”

“Yes, of course!” Vereesa shook her shock off, took the scroll and began to read. They were simple enough, adequate requirements for a man of Highlord’s station, with an extra dash of secrecy and privacy. However, they didn’t need such a pompous affair just to reject Sylvanas. They also didn’t need it just to accept her either. Something was going on. Oh my Lady Moon, she thought to herself: You can’t do small. It’s not in your destiny.

Satisfied with her answers, the two Commanders left. Spending the rest of her shift dealing with this newly given mission, she was fidgety. When her time clocked, Vereesa basically run from her office and to her home.

Arriving at her three story residence, she rang the bell by pulling almost frantically at it’s cord. Her sister was the one who answered the door, “Are you really that eager to see us or was it a terrible day and you can’t wait to just throw and relax?” Sylvanas was clearly annoyed at her childish act.

“Never mind that now! You have-”

“Ah there she is, come quick!” Rhoin who rushed down the stairs as the door was opening grabbed her by the hand and started pulling her to the second floor, towards the kitchen. “Nat, tell her what we are cooking today!”

“First of all, no one calls me Nat. Second, it’s étouffée and you need to pay attention to what I’m doing here if you are to pull this one off. This is much easier to fuck up than a simple beef stew and you did fuck that one up more than you succeeded,” Nathanos looked both enthusiastic and patronising, all with his signature grumpiness. 

“Of course, yes! They hunted crayfish today, just for this!” Rhonin went deeper into the kitchen and took up a task as he was instructed.

“Lake Lordamere is full of them and no one seem to be touching any. I am honestly surprised they were not hunted down to extinction given how stupidly easy it was to catch them.”

“Oh well, that’s because there are farms. A couple of years ago they, together pretty much all other animals in the lake, were actually under the risk of going extinct, so the Council of Six banned pretty much all hunting activities. There were a lot of dissent of course, but the Council started giving out loans to former hunters to build fish farms and also farms for other freshwater crustaceans. Most still couldn’t handle it, but now we have far more and far steadier supply of them, and plenty of old fishers just became sellers or restaurant owners. Long story short, magocracy works.”

Nathanos rolled his eyes, “Just stir the sauce and don’t let it stick and burn.”

“It took longer than we would like because we had to build our trap cages first, so dinner will be a bit later than usual,” Sylvanas had come after them, standing at kitchen door right behind Vereesa.

“That honestly sound and smells delicious, so thank you already. However, I have news and they are important!” Vereesa turned to her elder sister intently.

Sylvanas knew her to be easily excitable, yet she still felt excited by her enthusiasm. It had been more than a month since she sent her letter of request, and haven’t heard a word since. It had began to feel like they were delaying for a polite rejection and the spark in her sister’s eye gave her hope.

“Alright Little Moon, tell us the news. I’m all ears.”

“Today, just a few hours ago, two Commanders from Stormwind came to my office. Fully in perfectly polished enchanted battle gear. They were sent by Highlord Bolvar Fordragon himself and the reason they were sent was to arrange a private and highly secure meeting, with you. They gave me instructions on how to prepare, they are also staying in the city and are involved in the process and asked me to help them in arranging the whole thing. It will be an isolated, private affair just between you and him, no one else is allowed in the room until you two leave. There are silence spells and everything requested for the chamber!” 

“Why?” Nathanos’ undivided attention was on the two of them.

“I have no idea,” Vereesa had a huge smile on her face, “But I do know, no one bothers with such fanfare just to tell you no.”

Sylvanas was deep in thought, “They don’t need it just to tell me yes either.” Something was going on. They were going to ask something of her, and not knowing what agitated the former Ranger General. A mission? A quest? Gold? Would they ask her to betray Quel’Thalas’ secrets? She frowned, this was not the news she was hoping for. Still, she decided it was better than nothing and if they asked for something she wouldn’t accept, it was all the better to know it this way than to face it after arriving at the human kingdom. 

Nathanos had arrived at her side, “What do you have in mind?”

Before Sylvanas could answer, however, Rhoin spoke up without taking his eyes off the sauce pot, “Well, King Varian is in need of a wife.”

Nathanos was just about to start yelling that Sylvanas responded with an ice cold tone, “I have told them very clearly why I had left the kingdom and what I would be doing. Now, monarchs can be pretty dismissive and entitled, however, I highly doubt that the King of Stormwind who is by all accounts a humble man still in the process of mourning his deceased wife, would be that foolishly rude.”

“Exactly!” Vereesa almost screamed at her ear, “And Highlord Bolvar has a wife and a daughter, so that’s not it either!”

“Well,” Rhonin was completely unfazed and still had most of his attention on the pot, “You are an exceptionally qualified military commander, maybe they want you to join them on a more permanent and exclusive basis.”

“Yeah,” Vereesa responded with an exaggerated head shake, darting past Sylvanas and Nathanos, she went right behind Rhonin and jokingly slapped the back of his head, “Why didn’t you tell this one first dummy?!”

“In my defense, I hear how King Varian needs to remarry and one son isn’t enough on a daily basis in the Violet Citadel. It is carved into my brain at this point,” He had an innocent face.

“Well, he needs to find himself someone else!” Nathanos proclaimed with his hands on his hip, voice just short of a yell. 

Sylvanas couldn’t help a laugh escape her, “Oh dear, and I had thought you were jealous of me before.”

“I was jealous of you. It’s just that now, I am allowed to express it violently and loudly!”

“Since when are you allowed?”

“Since we got married. It was right there in the vows, right after the part about how we were going to be loyal to each other and love each other, it said we were allowed to express our jealousy loudly and violently.”

“Ah, yes, I remember now. Right around the part where it said I could call you Nat.”

“Yeah, that too,” Nathanos seemed relaxed as he joined in the laugh. Sylvanas kissed him and spoke to him just quiet enough for him to hear, “We’ll talk about what to do later, alright?”

He nodded and that seemed that. The rest of the evening was fun: Etouffée was delicious and the wine Rhonin picked with it fit nicely. They had a pleasant conversation during and after the dinner. However, throughout the night, Nathanos had kept closer to her and been more touchy than usual, Sylvanas noted with a mischievous delight. And when they retreated to their respective rooms, he demonstrated a possessive sort of passion. She had to put in extra effort to keep her voice down. He just took that as a challenge and he won when Sylvanas came undone with an embarrassingly loud moan. She just prayed her baby sister hadn’t heard that.

The next morning, after the breakfast, Sylvanas and Nathanos went to her study and talked about what they were willing to do: Nathanos was down with any mission, any quest, no matter the danger. He was less thrilled with the idea of becoming a regular member of their army, however, he was fine with it as long as they were allowed to live outside of the city walls. Sylvana drew the line in endangering Quel’Thalas. For her, a regular army seat was more desirable, it was the kind of stability they would be lucky to have. With their minds made up, they spent the rest of the day as it had become their routine. That evening Vereesa brought a more detailed guideline for what they would need to do. They decided that since Highlord Bolvar was going to have two guards on the floor right at the door of the room they were meeting, it was only fair she had the same. Nathanos and Vereesa were going to stand as her guards. 

When the day of the meeting finally came, she had a mix of hopeful anticipation and dread sitting at her chest. She wore her custom made personal armor. It was neither an official Farstrider one nor one tied to her former nobility. This was a family tradition. They all had private armor sets commissioned once they graduated from the academy. It was both a powerful, high quality set as well as appropriately fancy. She had convinced Nathanos to get one done as well, back when he had been first admitted into the ranks of the Ranger Army. Best part of an enchanted armor such as these was that they did not get old or looked any less than the day they were made. Proper wear for the meeting she was about to go.

They made their ways to the Violet Citadel with Rex and Bolt on their side. The room had soundproofing enchantments done, however, there was nothing against light or smell, they had checked. They had a bottle of the alchemical liquid that turned the two mastiffs insane. Anything went wrong, she would open and poor the potion which would alert the dogs and Nathanos with them. He swore he would come to her help no matter what and all the kingdoms and their guards be damned. She wasn’t certain what he was fearing would happen, Bolvar Fordragon was a paladin and she had doubted he would personally come to assassinate her even if he wasn’t, still, knowing Nathanos would be right there within her reach made her feel more confident. 

When they arrived at the right floor, Commanders Jacob and Andrea were already there, together with Vereesa. Just was she was wondering how long they would need to wait for Highlord Bolvar, he appeared at the top of the stairs. Auburn haired, green eyed paladin looked as hopeful as he had been when she had last seen him: Few months ago back when the kings of the Alliance were busy tearing their organization down, Highlord accompanied his king Varian and was cautiously optimistic. The disappointment over that clearly did not change his perspective on life, or perhaps that’s how it was for all servants of the light.

“Lady Windrunner, I did not have you waiting for too long I hope?”

“Not at all Highlord, we had just arrived.”

“Lord Marris, an honor to meet you,” He extended his hand for a shake, looking like a kid meeting their idol.

Nathanos accepted his hand, “I am not a lord.”

“And I am not a lady anymore Highlord,” Sylvanas joined in on the correction.

“Ah, yes, of course, but still, I hope it was forgivable mistake. Well, l- Ms.Windrunner, shall we?” He gestured towards the chamber as Commander Jacob opened the door. Sylvanas accepted his offer and walked in with Bolvar after her. Jacob closed the door behind them, leaving Vereesa and Nathanos waiting on one side with the two commanders standing sentry on the other.

The chamber was too large for a meeting between two people. It had a massive roundtable with only two chairs. Highlord Fordragon moved to sit in one as he offered the other to her.

“So, to what do I owe such a meeting? Giving me a simple yes or no answer shouldn’t require this much fanfare,” Sylvanas decided getting to the matter immediately was the best.

“Of course. We had your letter arriving quite some time ago. His Majesty and his advisers sat down and had a discussion over it and we decided to comeback to you with an offer of our own: Instead of just being a member of the Alliance Army or a resident in Stormwind, we want you to train and command a ranger army for us. It will be a sub-branch of the Stormwind Army and your rank shall be the equivalent of a Field Marshal, very few people has that rank or an equivalent in the navy. From the perspective of standing, you shall be directly under me and above me is only His Majesty, King Varian Wrynn. We are hoping your husband Nathanos Marris will also join us in this capacity with the rank of a Marshal, however, even he doesn’t, you alone accepting our offer will suffice.”

Sylvanas was surprised beyond words. This was way more than all her wildest assumptions. Still, she kept a neutral face, “Is this a request? Or a demand?”

Highlord seemed almost ashamed, “I wish I can say this is merely a request. However, we had long and detailed deliberations about this, and the conclusion we reached was that we couldn’t justify taking the risks that came with accepting you and your husband in, without getting something in return. You see, we have our own problems down south and our actions must consider the benefit of the kingdom first, regardless of our personal opinions.”

“Fair enough. However, I need time to think this and discuss it with Nathanos.”

“Of course. I will be leaving for Lordaeron City later today. I will stay there for a fortnight and will return to Dalaran before I make my way back to Stormwind. We can arrange a second meeting then, together with both of you this time, if that’s alright? And you can give me your answer then.”

“That sound perfectly fine to me Highlord,” Sylvanas stood up and extended her hand which the Highlord Bolvar took with grace.

“Please, you first,” he gestured towards the door just like he had done before the meeting.

When they came out, the four standing outside clearly did not expect them to finish this fast and jumped. Nathanos almost had his hand on his blade when he saw her and relaxed. They shook hands one more time and went their separate ways.

Nathanos could only wait until they left the Citadel, “What did he say?”

“Well, they want me to train and command an army for them. A ranger army to be specific. We arranged a second meeting for two weeks later, that’s when we are going to give him our answer. You and I both will be attending that one.”

Nathanos looked confused for a moment, and then a wiseacre smirk appeared on his face, “So, you’re gonna be the Ranger General again?” He turned towards Vereesa, “You win this one and prepare yourself for round two because I won’t be beaten twice.”

Vereesa was grinning from ear to ear, “I told you, you can’t do small, there is just no way.”

“Now hold on, both of you. I haven’t accepted anything yet. And neither have you,” She poked Nathanos on his arm, “Are you fine with this? You hadn’t sounded very interested when we talked about this yesterday. What changed?”

“Wait, they want me too?”

“Yes, of course, and even if they didn’t, you know I wouldn’t do this without you.”

“I was fine with being your ranger lord just a mere month ago. I am not suddenly against it. And if they are going to treat you with the respect you deserve, it’s all good with me. Wait! Will they ask that we live in the city?” Nathanos pursed his lips so much he had basically the same face with his mastiffs at that moment.

“That’s one thing we need to discuss and decide. Thankfully, we have time.”

Vereesa escorted them a while longer before she left and went to her own business, but not before she hugged her and expressed her happiness in a really smug manner.

The following two weeks were spent in careful deliberation. They decided that living in Stormwind City was a big enough deal breaker that they would rather give up on that kingdom whole together and search for other options. But living close to the city as long as it was outside, was fine. Training rangers would be outdoors duty anyway, even the more technical, studious education for officers would need to be blend in with field work, so doing the job itself wouldn’t confide them within any closed space for too long. Nathanos agreed to take a position as a ranger lord, this time as a trainer rather than just a Farstrider in missions abroad. In that case, they would take her nephew in. They would try their luck with Kul’Tiras next if these negotiations failed and they resolved that they would help Vereesa and Rhonin with their initial plan of taking Arator to Dalaran in that case. With that conclusion, they made their way to the same conference room from two weeks earlier.

Highlord Bolvar was earlier than them this time. After a brief greeting, they went inside. There were three chairs in, with two carefully tucked in closer to each other than the third one. Fordragon made his way to the more distant one and signaled for Sylvanas and Nathanos to sit as well.

“We have decided to take you up on your offer, however, we have certain conditions that if not met, we will not be able to come an agreement,” Sylvanas saw it best to get right to the point again.

“Let me hear these conditions and if it’s within acceptable limits, we should be fine,” Highlord had his now usual optimism.

“We don’t want to reside within the city proper. In fact, we would like to have as little as possible to do with the workings of the capital. Our hope is to have a corner for ourselves within the countryside.”

Bolvar had a thoughtful face as he spoke, looking slightly above their heads,“That… Could be arranged. Of course you will need to be present in the Stormwind City time to time, however, having a residence outside the walls is perfectly doable. By the way, I should have mentioned this earlier, so pardon me. However, in Stormwind, only nobles can have a rank of Lieutenant Commander or higher. Which means you two will be granted nobility. No lands though and don’t expect a seat in the House of Nobles either. It is their decision to allow anyone new in and they have never granted that privilege to ascended military. This also means you shall be taking oaths of fealty and servitude, on you life, to King Varian Wrynn and the royal line of Wrynn. And unlike the ones you had for Sunstrider Dynasty, these you will not be able to rescind, only can be relieved of. ”

“That is perfectly understandable and fine. The less we have to do with politics the better,” Nathanos waved his hand like he was shooing away the matter. 

“Well, that’s is then! We have a deal!” Bolvar slapped his hands together in glee.

“Not so fast. There are other details need discussing, like the size of the ranger army and the budget as well as their operational limits,” Sylvanas on the other hand, was not so easily excited.

“Yes, of course, however, those are far more technical matters and we need to decide them on the job. For now, all I can tell you is this: We in Stormwind, take the matter of state security quite seriously. And I mean no offence when I say this, however, we know about the recent decisions regarding defensive measures made by the Elven King and we find them to be, well, foolish. Being cheap about defense is the costliest thing in this life, and a mistake we simply cannot allow ourselves to make. So, even though I cannot give exact details here, I can assure you, we are not looking for token troops to show off. We really do want a ranger army. The performance of Lady Alleria and her Farstriders have become stuff of legends and the various hunter teams trained since the Second War had fallen way short of that standard.”

Sylvanas and Nathanos looked at each other with barely contained satisfaction. She turned back to Highlord, “Very well. Then we shall talk the rest in Stormwind.”

Bolvar stood up, “I was planning to leave tomorrow, perhaps you can join me and we can go together? At noon, in fact, past noon would be our time of departure. I have a breakfast rendezvous with the Grand Magus and I have the sneaking suspicion it will stretch on to a brunch.”

“Yeah, mages do that,” Nathanos shook his head in agreement as he get up from his chair.

They shook hands and that was it. Far from official, yet it was mostly done. Walk back to Vereesa and Rhonin’s home had been full of cheer with a bit of sadness in it. That evening, Sylvanas took it upon herself to cook Vereesa’ favorite dish, spiced chili crab. After the dinner, the two sisters went to the balcony on the third floor and talked for hours, in their native Thalassian. They had reminisced the old days, their childhood, their parents, their lost siblings. Oaths were made to keep in touch and come to one another’s aid. Childish as it was, they almost didn’t want to go to bed, like they could delay their separation if they somehow did not sleep. And yet, they were adults, so eventually, they said their good nights and retreated to their respective rooms. Morning wasn’t any better. After Sylvanas and Nathanos had done packing, Lady Moon and Little Moon and sat down, hugging and talking until the very last minute. Her little sister had tears in her eyes again, and this time, Sylvanas couldn’t keep a clean face either. When they finally said their goodbyes, they were more hopeful and more confident in their bonds.

The two rangers went to the stables to take out their gryphons, who were terribly bored of not being able to fly for almost two months and were quite aggressive at first. However, handling animals was one the very basics of being a ranger, so they managed to calm them down and mount up, Bolt and Rex tightly secure in their baskets. 

They joined the Highlord’s entourage outside of the city and made their way to the southern harbor of Southshore. From then on, it was a sea voyage and the two poor gryphons we confined in enclosed spaces once more. Most of the way till Stormwind City was spent below deck, trying to soothe them. When the finally arrived the city harbor, they quickly realized Stormwind had a new fleet at anchor. Sylvanas and Nathanos both tried to make calculations on how much it must have costed, and looked at each other in barely contained shock. Highlord was not joking when he said they believed a cheap defense was more expensive, because those ships must have required a fortune. They took their miserable mounts for a fly above the city, before eventually landing at the stables.

“We have a day before properly meeting the King. Shall we go see Arator?” Nathanos had gotten quite used to the idea of having her nephew around. He had plans about all the things he would teach the boy.

“No. This whole thing can still fall apart. I don’t want to give any false promises. Once we have it on official, then we go see him,” Sylvanas was telling the truth, saying they would take him in, only for it all to go down the drain would be too cruel. Instead, they moved into their temporary residence within the city and went out for a walk.

Stormwind was, huge and new. It was rebuilt after its destruction at the end of the First War, so despite being the over a millennium years old capital of an over a millennium years old kingdom, it felt and looked like a fresh settlement. The presence of military at every corner was jarring at first. Then they remembered the Stonemason riots a few years back that culminated in the murder of the Queen. It all made sense. Stormwind had always been the most military leaning of the seven human kingdoms, having expansionist wars against Gurubashi Trolls and the Gnolls, it had managed to stand against the might of the Orcish Horde, alone, for years. The subsequent fell of the kingdom and the later success of the Alliance against the Horde, seemed to have only further strengthen the martial mindedness of it. Combined with the recent riots and potential resurgence of a brigand activity, it was no wonder that they would want an army as large and strong as possible. The question was, could they afford it? Outfitting an entire ranger army from scratch was going to be a costly undertaking and that was before Sylvanas had seen their new fleet. Navies were even more expensive than armies, even the wealthy and lumber rich Quel’Thalas didn’t really keep a large one, Kul’Tiras being an exception, as they were an island nation, it was their only defense.

The city lacked the polished cleanliness of Dalaran. Nathanos saw a few beggars here and there and it soured his mood. Beyond the politics and crowds, it was the poverty that turned him off from cities. “People feed each other and put a piece of clothing on each other’s back in the countryside. Something about all those tall buildings and large stone roads make people cold in the heart, they walk by starving fellows and don’t even look back,” He had said to her once. Sylvanas couldn’t object. Then again, beggars weren’t allowed to reside in Silvermoon, so out of sight was out of mind. They decided to take their gryphons for a flight and went back to the stables. From the skies, the beggars were invisible and the Elwynn Forest stretched on and on, so they flew that way. Sylvanas resisted to the temptation of flying to the small church Arator was living in and they made it back to the city shortly after sunset. 

The next morning, they had a light breakfast before they made their way to the King’s presence. Deciding that wearing armor and carrying weapons to the first ever meeting would be rude, they opted to wear proper clothes. Nathanos had only one such set, something they would need to amend if everything went well. The knowledge of possible future shopping caused him to grumble all the way to the royal quarters of His Majesty. Highlord Bolvar greeted them a floor below and walked with them to their destination. When they arrived to the large white doors, one of the two guards standing at each side saluted him and knocked for them, while declaring who came loudly. Another guard from within opened the gate and they made their way in.

“That will be all, you may leave,” King Varian commanded the guard inside.

A quick and sharp salute saw the sentry out and they were left alone. Well, not exactly alone. A dark haired, honey colored eyed woman in obvious noble attire and a comfortable seating that Sylvanas didn’t know who was also there. Still, she focused on the King instead and assumed they would be informed as to her identity.

“Your Grace, allow me to present Sylvanas Windrunner and Nathanos Marris,” Bolvar bowed together with the ranger duo and gestured towards them.

“No need for such theatrics, we have all seen each other before and know who we are, well... Except you my lady, this is Lady Katrana Prestor, she is a trusted adviser in my council and the current Speaker for the House of Nobles,” King Varian looked tired and sorrowful as he presented the woman to his left.

Lady Katrana did not speak and instead bowed her her ever so slightly, displeasure apparent on her face. -Oh, great. SheAstalor.- Sylvanas held herself like she was used to holding herself at the council gatherings in Silvermoon, -Here is to hoping this one doesn’t end like the last one there.- 

With a silent command from the King, they were all seated at the large rectangle table. Sylvanas and Nathanos was at the right side of the table, towards the middle. King Varian sat at the head with Bolvar and Katrana to his immediate right and left respectively.

“Bolvar here informed me that he had already told you all that would be. So I assume you know the requirements and commitments necessary.”

“We do Your Grace. Oaths and service we understand quite well.”

Lady Katrana snorted at that without any attempt to hide it. “Excuse me Ms.Windrunner , if I am not convinced of that. You swore vows to another king before, we all know how that one ended. And allow me to be honest right here: I was against this whole deal. We don’t need a larger army, we cannot really afford such a fanciful expense… And yet, our Grand Marshal here insisted that he just absolutely needed a ranger army. So, here we are,” displeasure was more than apparent, Sylvanas was quite sure Lady Prestor was actually holding from spitting out far harsher words.

She kept her cool, “Allow me to be honest as well: I left the ancient king of my kin because he didn’t bother understanding or appreciating the finer details of military. If the same will be the case here, let us end this before it even began. If you brought me here to parade a couple of archers in extravagant armor, don’t bother. I won’t waste my time on it, and there are far cheaper ways to show off.”

“No such tricks or cop-outs, I swear it on my honor,” Highlord Bolvar was dead serious. 

“Lady Katrana is always thoughtful of our finances, however, she sometimes thinks us little boys and herself our mother,” King Varian gave the woman on his left a warning look, “You will have your budget. We want an initial force of 1000 combatants strong, not counting the support troops. Building the structure, the bureaucratic workings, arranging all the necessities for their training, outfitting and accommodations as well as operational readiness, deciding the wages, raising and commanding them will be your responsibilities. We shall appoint proper adjutants for you both. If there is anyone you wish to recruit specifically, just tell Bolvar, he has full authority on the matter. So, when do you think we can have this force ready the earliest?”

Sylvanas and Nathanos looked at each other and came to a silent agreement, “Three years is a realistic assumption, if we are allowed to recruit from within the existing army combat units. Nathanos here completed his training in two years and he had prior combat experience in local militia for Lordaeron. That’s of course, assuming we can begin today. Considering the fact that getting everything ready for even starting to recruit people would take months, I say 4 years is our earliest assessment,” Sylvanas finished leaning back to her chair.

Highlord Bolvar and King Varian looked at one another in pleasantly surprised faces, “That is a much better and earlier date then we had hoped. Well then, let’s finish the rituals, so you can begin the work as soon as possible. Bolvar here will help you in all the early steps of establishment,” King Varian had an honest smile on his face.

“There is one more thing,” Sylvanas leaned slightly forward, “We had told Highlord that we wish to reside outside of the city.”

“Ah, yes. I almost forgot,” King Varian took a large polished iron key out of one his pockets in his large coat, “There is a villa just inside the treeline of Elwynn Forest to the north of the city gates. Close to the church your nephew is living in. It belongs to the Crown, but I shall hand it over to you. Together with its staff. They can be sent here, to the Keep, if you don’t wish to hold them. It should be large enough to raise a family in, it was used as a hunting lodge for foreign dignitaries.”

“That’s very generous Your Grace,” Nathanos had genuine gratitude in his voice. 

“Not at all,” Varian stood up and they all followed him, “I will take your oaths, along with your tributes, at the throne room, tomorrow,” He turned towards Bolvar and he whispered “noon sharp”, so Varian continued, “Noon sharp.”

“Well, if one good thing will come out of this ordeal, it will be to watch Count Lescovar’s face as he witnesses a High Elf and a Lordaeronite peasant get anointed as Stormwind nobility,” Lady Katrana seemed in much better spirits compared to earlier. She turned towards Sylvanas, “That whole rule about how only noble can hold a certain rank, well, it was the brainchild of his ancestors, back when our kingdom was first founded. The idea, of course, was to bar any commoners from ever rising within the army. However, King Landan realized that it just meant that anyone he saw fit to be Lieutenant Commander was also fit to be a noble. They have been howling at it ever since. Now that think about it, I have the feeling I shall quite like this new sub-branch of our armies,” the sheer antagonistic glee in her face sent chills down Sylvanas’ spine, however, the King and Highlord seemed slightly amused and quite casual about the whole deal, so she kept her discomfort to herself. 

“You will be the one listening to them complaining in the House of Nobles,” Bolvar had pity apparent in his voice.

“It will be a change from all the moaning about taxes. Wait, no. They will still be moaning about taxes, but at least, I can tell them it’s because of the new High Elf noble. Uh, it will be glorious to watch them melt on the floor,” With a deep smirk on her face, Katrana Prestor made her way out of the chambers first.

Once out of the Keep, Sylvanas and Nathanos decided to go visit Arator immediately. If the boy was in the middle of some educational activity, well, they would make it up with over time later. Taking their gryphons they quickly made their way to the church sitting within the trees in recluse. Even before they landed, Sylvanas saw the boy playing outside and felt a fist in her chest. She had been absent from his life for so long, and what for? Would he even like to see her let alone live with her? She grabbed on the reins even tighter as they made their descent.

Arator did not move away as they made the dive and landed. As soon their feet hit the ground, her nephew started to walk closer to them, a fascinated look on his face, curiosity in his eyes and a wooden sword in his hand, “You came from the city? If you are looking for Brother Danil, he is at Northshire Abbey. Won’t be back for another day.”

-Of course he doesn’t recognize you. How could he? He was barely two years old when you had last seen him.- Shame filled Sylvanas. She couldn’t stop a sad smile forming on her face, “Are you alone here? Who else is at duty?”

“Priestess Anetta is here today. Shall I go get her?!”

“Would you do that for me?”

“Yes mam! Ehh, yes My Lady!” He sprinted towards the simple yet sturdy looking chapel and went inside yelling, “Priestess Anettaaaaa!!! There is a High Elf lady and a man looking like her guard here! She wants to see you!”

The sheer innocence and brightness of the kid made her feel even worse. Nathanos walked to her side and held her hand in his, “We got this. You got this.”

Soon enough, a young woman with dark honey colored hair in priestess robes appeared with Arator at the gate. Upon setting her eyes on Sylvanas, she froze, “Lady Windrunner!? It’s an honor to have you here. If you had sent word of your visit we would have made proper preparations! I am so sorry, please, do come in, we have enough living space here. Would you like to drink anything? You must be exhausted from the long journey, do take a seat at the table. We have tea, I can open some bottles as well, we had a decent harvest about 5 years ago, nothing befitting your station I’m afraid,” poor priestess was gesturing them inside, counting a million things while bowing and keeping her head low. 

Arator on the other hand, had a blank face since he heard the word Windrunner. Gone was the carefree movements of a child, he was almost rigid like a golem. Anetta whispered in his ear, “That’s your aunt!” A sharp and emotionless, “I know,” was his only response.

They walked inside, towards another room separate from the prayer one and sat at the one table they had there. Sylvanas did her best to convince Priestess Anetta that she need not labor and the tea already had at the ready would be enough, after a few more frantic seconds, she seemed convinced, or at least surrendered.

With their cups in front of them, Sylvanas decided to break the awkward silence, “Arator, you know who I am right?”

“I do,” he spoke looking right in her eyes, face that of a steel. He had Alleria’s emerald green eyes, her hair too, and in that moment, Sylvanas felt like it was her elder sister looking at her, judging, “Where were you?” she was asking, “I had left my only child to your care and you abandoned him here, and what for?”

Sylvanas took a long breath, being frank and without pleasantries would be the way to go. Alleria wouldn’t be fooled by curtsies and neither would her son. “I have decided to move in here, in Stormwind. And if that’s alright with you, I want you to live with us,” she pointed to Nathanos with her finger, “This is my husband, Nathanos Marris.”

“Hi,” Nathanos had a face as serious as the one he had back at the meeting with the King. He extended his hand for a shake and Arator took it with an equally serious face, “Hi,” he responded back, “You are human I see.”

“I am. Would that be a problem?”

“No.”

“Lady Windrunner, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. However, we have, ahem, we have certain instructions about his upbringing and I’m afraid they override your kinship,” Priestess Anetta interjected with an apologetic face.

“I know about Supreme Commander Turalyon’s will. It’s specifically about his education and not particularly about where he lives, or do I remember that one wrong?” Sylvanas summoned her Farstrider nerves to keep herself in check.

“Ah, yes, no. I mean, yes, they are about his education, mostly. There are also instructions about his inheritance, which is locked in Stormwind vaults and neither he nor anyone else can access it until he turns 17.”

“That’s perfectly alright, nothing that prevents him from living with me. Besides, we won’t be too far. We are settling down at the King’s hunting lodge, we checked on our way here, it is a mere twenty minutes walk from there.”

Arator had a sad but hopeful expression on. He looked back at Priestess Anetta and then to his aunt and uncle. 

Anetta continued, “Well, that is quite alright. However, this decision is not mine alone. We need to gather all the entire and inform them Brotherhood. And the soonest I can do that is in two days time and not before.”

Sylvanas turned towards Arator, “That’s alright isn’t? It would give you time to say your proper goodbyes and we would be able to ready the villa. You will be back here, pretty much everyday. I have no intention of cutting your education, however, you will be living with me and that means I get to teach you certain subjects as well. Do you accept that?”

The boy blinked, twice. And then he had a short begging of a laugh, cut down with disbelief. He looked back at the priestess and then turned to Sylvanas, eyes making a pause on Nathanos, “Yes. Yes, that’s quite alright My Lady, My Lord.”

“Excellent! Now, are you busy? Were you supposed to be doing something?”

“No! I mean, I was practicing left parry and left lunge, but just because I wanted it.” 

“Would you mind showing me?”

“No! Sure, come out!”

Arator jumped from his seat and went outside. The wooden sword which he did not let go during the entire conversation, was shaped like a longsword. And It was also the same size as a longsword, meaning, too long for a child his age. Yet, when he began demonstrating his moves, he was sharp and able. From the way he moved, it looked like the sword had weight to it, probably had mercury in it: Proper training sword for a knight in the making.

Nathanos and Sylvanas both had followed him to the outside together with Anetta, “He had began his training when he was five years old, as is custom for lords of Stormwind,” she told them with pride. 

Shortly after, Nathanos started to give him instructions, which the boy followed successfully and without question. Sylvanas had first thought he only looked like her sister, however, as he kept practicing his swordsmanship, the undeniable signs of his paladin father became visible: The way he stood, his jest and mimics, reminded her the young commander with whom she had fought against the Orcs.

Arator wasn’t just the son of her elder sister, he was the son of another great hero, one of the saviors of Quel’Thalas. -And Quel’Thalas didn’t want him.- For the first time since she came to the chapel, Sylvanas didn’t feel shame, instead she felt validation. She had been right. She had done the right thing, was doing the right thing.

They spent the rest of the day playing with the boy. They practiced sword fights, they walked a bit into the forest and Sylvanas showed him how to climb trees faster and how to tell a few plants apart. They gave him their presents: Nathanos had bought him a real sword, a short sword that is. It had a mighty fine craftsmanship and complete with its scabbard, it looked befitting a real knight. Sylvanas had a beautiful, Thalassian made leather plate armor, designed to look like a tight fitting doublet of green and gold. 

He laughed all loud and bright then. He was correcting himself each time he called her lady instead of aunt at Sylvanas’ encouragement. When the evening came, Arator first went for a bath, which he did all by himself. And then, they sat down for supper together with Priestess Anetta, who seemed relaxed and pleased with how the day went. After a while, Arator went to have his evening prayers, and they all joined, despite that fact that neither of the ranger duo were particularly interested. Light, clearly meant a lot to the boy, and how wouldn’t it, and that decided it now meant something to them as well. Once done with his prayers, he was only allowed to sit with them a short while longer, then Anetta informed them that his bed time had arrived. Sylvanas asked for permission to put him to bed, which they both gave. Nathanos stayed downstairs to learn more about her nephew’s daily routine and other important details of his life and persona.

When she took him to his bedroom, Arator quickly changed into a simple and loose linen shirt and a soft, cotton pajama pants. As he got under his blankets, she sat down in a chair next to his bed. 

“I don’t feel sleepy right now. Usually I do, but I just want to sit and talk,” he still had a smile on his face, but some darkness Sylvanas couldn’t quite place was shadowing his eyes.

“I guess you are excited. So am I. But you need to sleep all the same. A proper schedule is always important, however, it means even more when you are growing up. You want to be a paladin. You cannot be a paladin if you stunt your growth.”

After a silent moment he spoke, “Why are you moving to Stormwind? I know it isn’t for me.”

“On the contrary, I chose Stormwind because of you.”

“But that’s not why you left Quel’Thalas.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should have done this long ago. As soon as it became apparent… Well, I should have done this years ago.”

“Is it because of him? Because you couldn’t be married to him there?”

Sylvanas gave a soft chuckle, “For starters yes. I wanted to have children, children like you, and they wouldn’t let me have them there, so I have come here.”

Arator’s face suddenly got washed with tears. Sylvanas panicked for moment, however, before she could figure out what to say, Arator talked, “Is that why… Is that why she left me? Abandoned me here? Because she was ashamed of me? Because she couldn’t go home if she had me? She went to a whole other world because she was too ashamed of me?”

“No! No, no, no. Arator, Alleria, your mother, she didn’t leave you, or abandon you. And she was not ashamed of you, Never! No, she, she had a duty. To protect you, to protect the world you lived in. She did her duty fighting against Orcs and every other moment she had, she spent it with you. She was here, with you, at every opportunity,” Sylvanas had a bitter laugh with tears in her own eyes, “Heavens, I hadn’t even seen her for months when she left. Because she spent every, every moment that she was not on the field, here. With her son.” She caressed his faces, like she could touch his sorrows away.

Arator sniffled and gained some control over his tears, though they continued to pour slowly, “I used to, feel her and dad too. I used to think I could feel them. Every year, on my birthday, I could swore I felt them. But then, last year, I didn’t. And I felt so lonely. It’s silly I know. I guess I was a child back then and hadn’t really understood what death meant, and then when I finally did, the illusion ended. Still, it was horrible. Like I lost them, truly this time.”

“But you can never lose them completely, never. The ones we love, they are always with us. We carry them in our hearts and minds in every moment we live. And they watch over us, from the great plains of the Hunter and from the warm embrace of the Light and all the other heavens that spirits of the virtuous rest. We live our lives under their protection, strive to make greatness out of our own time, and then, if we manage to be worthy of those planes, we join them when the time comes,” Sylvanas reached the pocket of her jacket, right above her heart. When she brought her hand out, she had Alleria’s identification badge, “This one belonged to her. This is Alleria’s first ever badge, they gave it to her when she finished the academy and became a real Farstrider. It’s yours now,” She put it in Arator’s hand. 

Arator looked at the simple silver badge like he had seen the greatest treasure in the Nexus of Blue Dragons. His hands deftly put it on, chain was long and thin enough that it would not bother him in his sleep. Sylvanas leaned down and kissed on his head, caressing his hair, “Go to sleep now, you need to rest. Two days, that’s it. After only two days, we will be together forever, and we can talk as much as you want, about anything.”

“About mom?”

“Especially her.”

Arator gave her a genuine, sweet, innocent smile and closed his eyes. Not wanting to bother him any longer, Sylvanas blew on the faint gaslight and went downstairs.

That had been the longest two days in her life, and when it was finally over, she felt like she had eaten too much sugar, with wine. The boy’s energy was contagious and both she and Nathanos were caught off guard. They had their fears and doubts, they kept close contact with his caretakers. They had nothing but the best to say about him, however, they also gave proper warnings about his quirks, his more sullen and angry side. Raising him would be a group effort: His education at the chapel and Northshire Abbey continued and at home, they took onto properly teach him what they knew and keep a disciplined, steady life without suffocating him. After a month, they eased into each other’s presence. They were going to be alright.

At the Stormwind City, Sylvanas had once again been bent over maps and charts and lists. Bolvar was enthusiastic at his helping, which was a plus. They decided against seeking any specific people Sylvanas knew. Building a new branch and one of the High Elven tradition would be aggravating enough for some, they did not want to add poaching into that. While drawing plans and completing the constructions of the new facilities for ranger training and accommodation, they designed a training schedule. Decision was made to recruit from existing army personnel with at least two years of prior combat training and exemplary record. They would take in and train officers first, and then those officers would be tasked with training NCOs who would then raise privates. Nathanos was brought to the head of the all training basics. They had kept the Farstrider rank system in place, both as a sense of tradition and because they believed the difference would make it feel more special. Given the requirements and future operational duties, they arranged for their wages to be double of standard troops. Both of these worked. They were flooded with applications as soon as they began taking them. There were even some from marines, and after a short deliberation with the Navy, they selected some of those as well. 

Sylvanas went with a simpler approach to their uniforms, the uniqueness would be point enough. They had pretty much the same design as the Farstrider one: It was forest green and brass instead of blue and gold, more lion figures instead of phoenixes and with old version of common runes over their jacket shoulders spelling the Kingdom’s motto: -Lion Never Yields-

When the day come for the new ranger cadets to begin their training, Sylvanas was there too. With Nathanos at their command, they saluted her at the training field built inside the Elwynn Forest and she saluted them back. Standing at the watchpost, she watched them fail, get back up and try again. She was wearing her new green uniform of the Ranger General of Stormwind. Sewn onto the chest of her new leather plate jacket, in accordance with its color scheme, was the new crest of her family as anointed by the King of Stormwind: Two crossed ranger arrows with two mastiffs on each side.


	3. DISTANCE

Little Lireesa fascinatedly pulled on the blue ribbons of her dress. The youngest member of the Windrunner family was put into the sky blue and silver clothes for the celebration of her first birthday and it was ruined as soon as she got her hands onto her iced cake. She didn’t mind of course, the one year old, auburn haired, silver eyed half elf was interested in testing how hard she would need to pull to rip the ribbons off. She was also interested in the cake in her other hand, but as she shifted more attention to tearing her own dress, she started smearing the side of her mouth with the frosting.

“Oh come on now sweety, you are going to cover yourself in cream!” Vereesa spoke as she tried to reach with a handkerchief to wipe her cheeks.

“Nah, it is fine. She can smear herself all she wants,” Nathanos interrupted. He took the soft piece of cloth from his sister in law and gave it to his daughter, “but if she wants to clean up, she’ll need to do it herself.” Normally gruff ranger was smiling from ear to ear as he continued, “Oi! You filthy rabbit, wipe your face!”

Quickly realizing that wiping her face would require her to stop pulling the ribbons or gave up the cake, Lireesa Windrunner instead chose to ignore her father’s command and dropped it to the ground.

All four of the adults at the table started laughing heartily at that. Vereesa and her husband Rhonin were tilted sideways, almost falling from their seats. That just made Sylvanas laugh even harder and she was forced to stop trying to pour wine, lest she wasted a good Dalaran Red. Arator on the other hand, got up and walked over to his cousin’s side, picked up the handkerchief and gave it back to his younger aunt. He had always been a bit too serious for his age, however, as puberty started to rear its head, he had adopted an attitude of seeing himself as a real grown up, in the stiff, overcompensating manner that children did.

Sylvanas didn’t mind. Having him play the responsible older brother was preferable to him acting like a petulant delinquent that so many other people were in this period of their lives. She too stood up from her seat, and went to take her daughter from her husband.

“I’ll hold her, you baked the cake and haven’t even eaten a piece yet,” she said as she got her daughter into her arms. As she went from sitting on her father’s lap to her standing mother’s arms, the relatively fast change of height elicited an excited response from little Lireesa,

“UP!”

“Yes missy, up,” Sylvanas answered. Her daughter was at that stage where she was kind of talking and not really talking at the same time. She was rapidly picking up words from all around, but proper syntax still eluded her. Mixing Thalassian words with common ones, as well as the grammar structure of two wildly different languages were also not helping. However, Sylvanas would be damned if she didn’t teach her own daughter her own native tongue. Arator didn’t know a word of Thalassian when they started living together and it had been the first thing she had set to amend with the boy.

That hadn’t been easy: Unlike Dalaran, Stormwind lacked a thriving High Elven community and teaching him Thalassian after his infancy, was no different than teaching him any other foreign language. Sylvanas figured he would probably have a human accent for his entire life. Still, she was proud of his studiousness and her own tutelage. It had also been an opportunity to talk to him about his mother Alleria, and a special bond that brought the aunt and nephew closer.

She turned to her to her daughter and put on her serious mother voice,

“Eat the cake or I am taking it away,” she said as she made a reaching motion with her hand.

“Minn’da, nooooo,” answered her daughter dramatically, pursing her lips and trying to pull her hand away.

“Well, then eat it missy.”

“EAT IT!” She retorted with urgency and shoved the cake that has long been squished out of its shape into her mouth. One, two, three bites and it was over. She, “ate” it, at least most of it and the rest was smeared all around her mouth.

Snorting at the sight, Sylvanas walked away from the table they had set up in the garden of their home, towards the water basin next to the flower bed. She sofly washed her daughters mouth, cheeks, hands and then slowly toweled her off, but there was no salvaging the dress. 

Looking back, she saw Nathanos and Rhonin trying to open another bottle of ale the latter had brought from Dalaran. They were already tipsy and this just guaranteed that they would be properly smashed as the day went on. Rex and Bolt were sprawled under the table, sleeping in its shade. Vereesa and Arator were now standing next to the edge of the small grove that merged with their garden, and talking amongst themselves while pointing at the trees. Sylvanas quietly went to their side, trying to listen to what they were saying.

“Well, too much water shouldn’t really be a problem for this, it is native to Stormwind after all, but yes, perhaps you should avoid watering it as often as the others,” Vereesa was enthusiastically explaining to her nephew as Arator crouched down and started checking the leaves of his sapling.

It was an old Quel’dorei tradition, to plant trees whenever a child was born into a family. They had had their own back at Quel’Thalas, in the Windrunner Estate. When the Horde marched through their homeland, burning it as they went, their trees were gone too. Theirs, and their parents’, and Lirath’s…

Neither Sylvanas nor her sisters had the heart to plant new ones in their place. The motion felt meaningless then and once Alleria was lost to them as well, the very idea became too painful. However, once Lireesa was born, Vereesa came to her visit with a sapling. It was not one of Eversong Woods’, rather it was a close species from Dalaran. They had decided then, they would plant one for all of them: Their parents, their lost siblings, their husbands, the children and themselves. So now, right at the edge of their garden, they had eleven saplings, all of them barely a year old.

Arator, for his part, had taken the responsibility of caring for his parents’ ones as well. They had brought a different one from Lordaeron for his father Turalyon and the boy had picked a Stormwind native for himself. Sylvanas crouched down next to him, with Lireesa now on her lap,

“How are you doing?”

“Eh!” Her nephew was surprised for a moment, but he quickly got over it, “I’m fine, just trying to make sure I don’t overwater this.”

“You look like you have something on your mind.”

“I… I’m just bored that’s all.”

“Well, sorry about that,” said Vereesa as she pointed towards her husband and Nathanos, “I can see how it can be dull to spend time with a bunch of drunkards.”

“Oh no!” Arator had mischievous smile on his face as he glanced behind, “No, no, no. That part is fun and I have a feeling that it will only get funnier.”

Just as he said the words, Rhonin dropped his glass and both grown men started laughing excessively.

“I had meant lately, not just today,” Sylvanas tried to get him to share without making it sound like an interrogation. 

“Ah, well, I… I guess I’m just bored lately, that’s all. I’m fine.” Arator had a calm voice but his face showed annoyance. His aunts looked at each other and silently agreed not to push further, for now.

Meanwhile Lireesa was trying to reach the leaves, with the highly important purpose of plucking them. Sylvanas became aware of her ambitions and pulled her back, putting her hand between the little girl and the defenseless sapling,

“No pulling on the leaves. Trees need them to grow.”

Her daughter had put on her best fake innocent face that fooled absolutely nobody.

“Look,” Arator spoke to his little cousin, “this one is yours,” and he pointed to one to the left of his.

Lireesa made the same grabbing motion towards that one, though she was too far away. So she started to wiggle in her mother’s lap to move closer. And yet, the dastardly woman held her in place, 

“I have just told you, no pulling the leaves,” Sylvanas spoke with a soft yet final tone. 

Little Windrunner stopped her struggle and pursed her lips. The tree was hers, yet she was not allowed to pluck from it. What kind of a cruel and mad world was this!?

Arator, Sylvanas and Vereesa had all pursed their own lips, mimicking her. And then they started laughing, which only confused the toddler. However, that was all they needed for her to forget about the recently thwarted plans.

Despite having an overt display of energy, Sylvanas knew her daughter would get sleepy soon. She stood up and said, “I need to get her ready for her nap.”

“Nooooo…” came the protest from Lireesa, but it fell on deaf ears.

“Of course, let me help!” Vereesa seemed rather excited as she spoke to her sister, as if this was some sort of a trial for her…

“Where are you all going?” shouted Nathanos, with a subtle slur in his speech. He wasn’t full on drunk yet, however, he was definitely getting there. 

“They are going to put Lirie to bed,” Arator answered for them.

“Oh, give me a kiss then rabbit, come here,” Nathanos walked to his daughter and kissed her. 

Lireesa giggled as she shook her head at the touch of his beard on her cheeks.

Nathanos turned his own cheek to his daughter, “Where is my kiss rabbit?”

Not yet fully succeeding at the motion, she still tried and gave him a kiss of her own, and then she continued giggling as she shook her head again when his beard had tickled her face.

Sylvanas couldn’t stop herself from joining her daughter. As she laughed, she also tried to warn her husband, “Try not to get too drunk before we come back.”

“Oh don’t worry, we have enough booze for all of you,” he turned towards Arator, “You want a sip?”

“NO!” shouted both sisters while Arator made a hand motion that signaled he was not interested.

Rhonin came up to them as well, “You stay here with us Arator, we totally won’t let you have a cup while they are gone,” and then made the most obvious wink.

Sylvanas rolled her eyes at that and started walking to the house as Vereesa stayed behind in an attempt to watch over Arator. Her sister was desperately trying to get two not so sober men to behave, which only made them act even more childish.

Her house, one of King Varian’s hunting lodges close to the chapel Arator had been raised in, was far too large for a family of four. Sylvanas didn’t want to leave the existing staff without a job, so they were kept in her employment, mostly to take care of the large mansion. She had picked several rooms for her family’s use and rearranged them the way they saw fit. Other rooms were maintained in the event that the King would wish to make a visit. For his part, Varian had kept away. Sylvanas had assumed it was to let them have their own lives without an intruder and appreciated it. With just them and the now familiar staff as the only residents, they got used to the lodge, making it their home. 

Home… Far away from the lands of her ancestors, yet Sylvanas truly felt that this was where she belonged to. It was here that she taught her nephew how to use an elven bow. Here was where she gave birth to her daughter, her first and only child. Here, she could enjoy being alive, and tell the creeping voices at the back of her head to shut up. 

Fear, Sylvanas had learned, has become a greater constant in her life since she had started building a family of her own. Fear that these days wouldn’t last, fear that some dreadful misfortune would befall them, fear that she would lose everyone all over again. But in moments like these, with her daughter in her arms, under a clear blue sky with the lively voices of her loved ones in her ears, she could smother it with bliss instead. 

And yet, her ever vigilant senses picked up a sound and when she turned westward her heart sank. Three gryphons had been flying towards them and started their descent in a clear intent to land. There were only two riders and Sylvanas knew their uniforms all too well to confuse them with anyone else.

Commander Jacob Alerius and Commander Andrea DeSousa dismounted swiftly and started making their way towards the front of the low garden. As soon as they were in a distance where they wouldn’t need to shout, Commanders saluted her and Jacob started talking,

“You are urgently needed in the Stormwind Keep Ranger General. The King demands your presence at once.”

Nathanos was already at her side, flanked by his two mastiffs that immediately jumped and joined him the moment they heard the gryphons. He took their baby girl from her hands as Sylvanas spoke, 

“Am I allowed to put on my uniform at least?”

Commander Andrea answered, “It will be required Ranger General, however, we were ordered to ask you to be quick about it.”

As soon as she got the word, Sylvanas marched inside with Vereesa bolting after her. With her younger sister’s help, she was ready within moments and out of the house.

“No need to wait for me,” she said to her family and mounted the third gryphon that was brought. Together with the two commanders, they quickly took to the sky and began a racing journey to Stormwind City.

It was a short trip and when they landed, they basically run towards the keep. Neither officers said a word on what was going on and instead quickly lead her to King’s private study upstairs. The guards at the door stepped aside and allowed Sylvanas entry. Jacob closed the door behind her, he and Andrea stayed outside.

When Sylvanas first entered the room, she immediately saw King Varian pacing back and forth on the left side. Lady Katrana Prestor was standing to the back with an unusually calm face that looked deep in thought. In the middle of the room stood Lord Merek Erlgadin, the Ambassador to Lordaeron, with his head low and hands behind his back. To the right side was Grand Marshal Highlord Bolvar, Grand Admiral Jes-Tereth, Admiral Dvorek and Admiral Rogers. This was not a meeting, this was a full blown war council.

She immediately saluted the King and moved to the right, taking her place next to Highlord Bolvar. 

Varian stopped his pacing when he saw her and turned towards the rest of them,

“Now that the Ranger General is here as well… Just tell them what you told me Merek.”

The highest ranking officers in the Stormwind’s armed forces all turned their heads towards the tall but skinny noble. Lord Merek Erlgadin stood up straight, brought his hands to his sides and addressed them in a calm voice that still betrayed concern,

“Three days ago, while in the court of Lordaeron, Sir Uther Lightbringer and two of his lieutenants came to ask private audience with King Terenas in the middle of the night. I and the other diplomats in the city were not invited and did not get any official explanation regarding what it was about. However, I did manage to learn the contents of their meeting, thanks to my… connections. Apparently, Prince Arthas Menethil disbanded the Order of the Silver Hand, sending Sir Uther and his knights away, took full command of the Lordaeron Second Army and then he and the soldiers under his command went and… well… sacked the City of Stratholme.”

“WHAT!” shouted all of the commanders in one voice.

“Apparently, the population of the city was infected with the plague that they have been struggling with for a while and the Prince had decided that the only solution was to and I quote ‘purge’ the city.”

“He is a paladin!” Sylvanas was speaking in more confusion than rage, “Surely he knows other ways to handle sick people.”

“Yes, this is clearly a tall tale, right?” Admiral Rogers was in denial.

Lord Merek looked at King Varian, who gave a nod of approval.

“Apparently,” Lord Merek continued, “the plague was no mere disease. It allegedly has the power to turn those it kills into… undead.”

The entire room froze. This was way beyond a tall tale. This was sheer insanity. A disease that turns people into undead, a prince massacring his own people by the thousands…

“How is that even possible?” Highlord Bolvar sounded as lost as all of them felt.

“I don’t know,” was Lord Merek’s honest answer. “However, I do know this; no explanation or declaration was made about it to anyone. So I quickly sent my wife out of the city and rode my gryphon all the way here without any breaks.”

“Why was that?” Admiral Dvorek was genuinely curious, but the answer was already obvious to Sylvanas.

“I didn’t want to get caught up in a lockdown. This is a dire matter and His Majesty needed to know, … you needed to know.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Bolvar walked towards Varian as he spoke, “he is a paladin, why- how could he even do such a thing? And why on earth would King Terenas try to keep it quiet?”

“To protect his son and heir, obviously.” Katrana Prestor had broken her silence for the first time in this meeting and she was already making too much sense for Sylvanas’s liking. “We need to protect ourselves. Whatever this is, it is an internal matter of Lordaeron, we don’t need to interfere.”

“Did you miss the part about the plague that is turning people into undead or did I made that up in my mind?” Admiral Rogers came off as too sharp to Jes-Tereth’s ear who silenced her with a look.

“We need details Lord Merek, please do not be shy about it. Whatever you know, we need to know as well.” Grand Admiral seemed to be the calmest and the most focused among them.

“Ah, well, I’m afraid not much else… I know the Prince was investigating the disease, ah! It’s the grain, they said the disease was spreading through the grains in Lordaeron, apparently people in the city of Stratholme consumed them and that’s why the Prince gave the order.”

“If that is true we need an immediate ban on all grain imports from Lordaeron,” Highlord Bolvar was back in the conversation, having gotten control of himself.

“We need a ban on grain imports from anywhere north of Khaz Modan. Lordaeron grain goes through several hands before it comes here, simply banning one kingdom wouldn’t be enough,” Sylvanas had already started to think upon the logistics of enforcing such a ban.

“Hold up!” Lady Prestor quickly broke the conversation between Grand Marshal and Ranger General, “Are you trying to starve the whole kingdom? Cheap grain imports is what’s feeding the people. Ban them and we’ll have food riots in our hands!”

Riot, was a magical word in Stormwind. Speak it and everyone immediately got scared and became far more apprehensive. Whenever one wished to be listened to, they only needed to utter that word and everyone would be all ears, fearing what might happen, again, if they did not pay attention and do as they were told. And Lady Prestor was the lord and master of that dreadful spell. Not for Sylvanas, not today,

“Undead is a threat beyond any social unrest. Undead means necromancy. Necromancy means…”

“The Burning Legion…” Bolvar was almost too quiet as he finished her sentence.

“Let’s not get carried away,” Varian had an ashen face but he sounded calm, “Whatever this is, no one will do anything until I go meet with King Terenas. I had been his ward since I was fifteen, he is like a second father to me. He will speak to me and I will learn the truth of this matter. Until then, no bans and no lockdowns.”

“We can start an inventory count to see what we may need if or when a mobilization is ordered,” Sylvanas continued her trail of thought with a less urgent attitude, “Maybe even get the officer core together for ‘training maneuvers’, it would give us a proper excuse to have them ready if the need arises, without causing alarm, preventing panic.”

Grand Admiral joined her, “We could hasten the maintenance of our frigates docked at the shipyard. All of our man o wars are already operational. We can start stocking up, under the pretense of preparing for patrol missions and use it for deployment if the decision is made.” 

“Border patrols,” Grand Marshal continued, “can be increased. Far away from the capital, they would not draw much attention. We can pull the necessary troops from all over the kingdom in small groups from each region, making it look like they were routine assignments.”

King Varian seemed satisfied by these responses. He nodded his head in approval as he spoke, 

“Yes, these are all fine ideas, do them. I will leave at once, to Dalaran via gryphon and from there I will ask for a portal. I don’t think Grand Magus would refuse me.”

Katrana objected with clear concern, “You will lack protection if you leave with such haste. Let us arrange proper escorts.”

“There is no time and I will be as safe as anyone can be. There will be no further arguments on this matter. Remember, keep your mouths shut, not one word, not to anyone else outside of this room.” He sharply waved his hand to all of them, “Dismissed.”

And with that, the King marched out of his own study as his generals saluted him. Several of his guards flanked him and together they walked towards the royal stables. 

Short, dark looks were exchanged between the remaining military commanders, who quickly darted towards their own separate ways. Sylvanas saw Lady Katrana Prestor with the corner of her eye, holding Lord Merek from leaving the study and shutting the door behind them, with a now familiar, unpleasant look on her face.

Lady Katrana Prestor was a complicated and difficult presence to manage. Sylvanas would have called her an isolationist like Astalor and Belo’vir, if she hadn’t known hers was a different kind of suspicion that ran far deeper. Lady Prestor expected the worst in every person and acted accordingly. Beyond cynicism, beyond distrust, she believed above all, everyone else to be terribly insidious, awaiting an opportunity to hurt the Kingdom of Stormwind. Even among the harshest Alliance opponents in Quel’Thalas, Sylvanas had never sensed such visceral hatred for the “outside”.

Not long after her appointment, Highlord Bolvar Fordragon had sensed his Ranger General’s discomfort with the attitude of their Speaker for the House of Nobles, and had taken it upon himself to explain or excuse her perspective and behavior. The story was that the Lord Prestor’s castle fell during the First War, before the City of Stormwind did. His wife and daughter were unable to escape the Horde. Captured and imprisoned, they had stayed in Orcs’ hands until they were liberated by the Alliance army along with all the other prisoners, after the end of the Second War. The mother died, but the daughter, Katrana, survived. No one could bring themselves to ask her what happened during that time, and she never offered any details to anyone, but the stories of what happened to most prisoners spread, and that was enough to explain it.

That made her feel terrible then, one of the few occasions Sylvanas had thought, deep down, that her own kin got lucky. The Windrunner family was almost extinguished, but at least they didn’t suffer captivity under the Horde. And she could see what it did to Lady Prestor: No one else in Sylvanas’ life had ever spoken with such venom in their voice or with such burning hatred in their eyes about the Orcs, or the Alliance. In the eyes of the Stormwind noble, all the human kingdoms, Dwarves and High Elves, were responsible for what happened to her, to her family, as much as the greenskins. That core “truth” ruled over her every decision. She was forever displeased with them and never felt they deserved any commitments from her homeland. Sylvanas knew that if it wasn’t for the close relationships King Varian and Highlord Bolvar had with other realms, she could never be convinced to cooperate or even silenced in her protests. 

Whatever was this trouble up north, she would object any and all interference from Stormwind and that, Sylvanas believed, would be their first and perhaps hardest struggle in this matter. King Varian and Grand Marshal kept Lady Katrana in their council and trusted her, because of her proven ability to control and keep the House of Nobles from their back. However, it also meant whenever the Ranger General wanted to press a matter, she had to dance around the Speaker, or convince Highlord Bolvar first in privacy and then act as a united front in the King’s presence. Luckily for her, Varian was a martially minded man and more often than not, came to agree with them over Lady Prestor.

Sylvanas returned to her own offices in the opposite wing of the Stormwind Keep. She immediately summoned her adjutant, Ranger Captain McCree, and together the two of them began gathering the relevant documents and drafting official papers for the inventory count. It was a boring chore that would take weeks to complete if it was just the two of them, so Sylvanas gave him permission to gather a few captains and lieutenants to help them out. The more people heard about the count, the more people would start to speculate as to why, so she immediately prepared an order for training maneuvers for the next week. It gave poor McCree a terribly short deadline, but he would manage.

By the time she was able to leave the office for home, it was already past midnight and if she had been a human, it would be too dark to fly. When she started her descent to land on the side of the stables with the gryphon, Bolt and Rex started barking at her. She heard the front door of the house open. It was Nathanos with a lantern, completely sober and with clear concern in his eyes. He silenced the mastiffs and took over the duty of unsaddling the beast. They did not speak until they both went into the house and sat at the table of their kitchen,

“Your sister and her husband are gone. Just a few moments after you left, a message came from Dalaran and they both took off.”

“A rider came by?”

“No. Rhonin froze a moment, his eyes all gloved pink and then he was up on his feet, saying ‘I have to go, they are calling the Kirin Tor personnel back.’”

Sylvanas took a deep breath and sank in her chair,

“Something… insane is going on. You are going to hear about it in a few days at worst. Probably everyone is going to hear about it in a few days, but for now, the King had us sworn to absolute secrecy.”

Nathanos raised one eyebrow as he shifted in his seat,

“The King had you sworn to secrecy? Then it must be a scandal. What kind of a scandal can affect both Stormwind and Dalaran? And calling his generals… I am assuming admirals were there as well. A military scandal? No, that’s too narrow. What royal ties are there between Stormwind and Dalaran? One that would require the presence of military? Ah fuck, this is about Arthas isn’t it?”

Sylvanas’ stomach fell at the name and she couldn’t help but show it in her face, which Nathanos took as approval of his line of thought,

“Aha! Let me guess, he ditched the Proudmoore girl, again, and this time Daelin is coming for his head.”

After staying silent for a moment, Sylvanas burst into laughter, almost falling from her chair,

“OH MY…. HEAVENS… NO! No! You are way off, waaaay off, oh the Light…” 

“Come on now. I saw the shock on your face when I said his name, I am absolutely right it has something to do with him. You remember how everyone reacted when we got the news of how he suddenly ended his courtship with Lord Admiral’s daughter. Even Lor’themar looked offended and he doesn’t even like humans.”

“That’s Ranger General Lor’themar Theron to you, and stop trying to guess, I have just told you I am under orders by the King himself.” Sylvanas stood up from her chair with half a smile and started making her way out of the kitchen, “And yes, it is about him… But nothing entertaining like you think…”

Sensing the dread in her voice, Nathanos followed her out and towards their bedroom,

“Do I need to start preparing the cadets for deployment? Because you and I both know they are not ready.”

And they wouldn’t be ready in time, if things went the way they feared. Four years she had told King Varian, it would take them four years to get their ranger army ready and it hadn’t even been three years yet. Granted, their cadets were picked from combat ready personnel, however, being a ranger was vastly different than being a footman and Sylvanas loathed the idea of putting them on the field early. “Graduation by fire” was the term used, she called it desperation. 

“I am dropping a training maneuver on your head. You need to pull it off in a week. We shall see what is lacking and try to make it up as much as we can, as fast as we can. Also, get ready to be swamped in paperwork.”

When they got into their bedroom, Nathanos acted as her valet and quickly got her out of her uniform.

“I got the hot water ready, in case you wish to take a bath.”

“Oh thank you, that was an unusually polite way of saying that I stink,” Sylvanas teased him.

Nathanos rolled his eyes at that and made an exaggerated bow with his hand showing the bathroom door.

She didn’t object. She was tired and a million scenarios ran in her mind. So she took the opportunity to relax and put her thoughts in order. Dalaran was close to Lordaeron, way closer than Stormwind, and they were a city of mages. If Lord Merek had made it here in three days time, then Dalaran absolutely knew it for almost the entirety of those three days and probably longer. Yet they only now summoned their members. Rhonin was not a low ranking magi, but he was no Council of Six either. This meant that the Council had time to think the matter through and decided they needed to act on it, one way or another.

The Ambassador did mention that the Prince was investigating the plague. Was Kirin Tor assisting him? If so, then surely they had enough information to explain the matter. King Varian would be there in two days time, if he asked Grand Magus Archmage Antonidas, would he give him the full story? Would Varian even ask him? The King trusted Terenas II above all, and he left with the clear intent of speaking to him directly. And what would happen if Terenas gave one story and Antonidas gave another? Logic dictated that they trust the academically minded and politically straightforward archmage, but Varian would certainly take his surrogate father’s word over his. She didn’t like how isolated they have felt here, emphasized by this recent development. Stormwind was a member of the Alliance, yet it always seemed like they were constantly disconnected from the rest of the kingdoms, almost like they were being left out.

The suspicion made her uncomfortable beyond any real security concern. She could tell it was Lady Katrana Prestor’s perspective rubbing off on her. It was rubbing off on all of them. And if Sylvanas hadn’t known better, she would call it a sorcery. However, she was a High Elf and she did not get even a whiff of magic from her, meaning Katrana was a normal human. Either that, or a mage so powerful that she was able to completely shroud her aura, which was an absurd notion. If she had been that strong, then she wouldn’t be imprisoned by the Orcs for years.

Sylvanas finally left the tub once the water began to go cold. She quickly dried herself off and went back into the bedroom. Nathanos was still awake, though barely. So she put on her nightgown and tucked beside him in the bed. He immediately put an arm around her, saying her good night and fell asleep in moments. The fear that had been pulsing at the base of her skull threatened to keep her awake, but she pressed herself to her husband’s body and managed to go to sleep in his warmth.

The next three days were extraordinarily busy and went by in a sense of overwhelming chaos. Charts were made, schedules were drawn, maps were studied and reports upon reports were written to the point that Bolvar’s office was a maze of stacked up paper. The Army Printery was doing overtime and still, several hand-written copies had to be made to keep up. The inventory count was coming up with some absurd results, too many scarves, not enough lances... One saving grace was that the weapons of her rangers were ready, together with their spares. Enchanted items would be nigh impossible to make in time for their training otherwise. The real problem both the Grand Marshal and the Grand Admiral faced, was that although they currently, mostly, had the equipment necessary, they were running out of contracts to make more. If a war happened, they would need constant reproduction to keep up with the loses. They had avoided pressing that issue to His Majesty the past year, mostly in favor of other matters, but also because extending the contracts or making new ones meant the “temporary” taxes put in place back during the Kingdom’s rebuilding would be extended, again.

Sylvanas was of the opinion that the sooner they abandoned all pretenses about the reality of the taxes, the better it would be for all of them. Her superior officers disagreed. They argued that the “pretense” was giving people hope that one day they would be gone, which provided them with the necessary tolerance to pass another extension from the House of Nobles.

“Lady Katrana is exceptional at her craft, but even she cannot pull that off. There is a limit to how much you can push an unwanted policy.” Grand Admiral Jes-Tereth was the most pessimistic of them.

“I disagree. I think the main problem here is convincing Lady Prestor herself. I have never seen her fail at pushing something through there. We just need to come up with something to convince her.” Highlord Bolvar was way more hopeful, though he yet didn’t know what that “something” could be.

“As far as I can tell, the main reason she objects these expenses is because she considers them to be unnecessary. If we can find another use to our demands than just a ‘possibility’ of a war, that might work.” Sylvanas tried to pull from the book of excuses that she had used for years in Quel’Thalas.

Bolvar Fordragon and Jes-tereth looked at each other for a moment and then with a completely straightforward face they both said, “We are going to annex Alterac.”

If they hadn’t outranked her, Sylvanas would roll her eyes and chastised them for not taking this seriously. But they did outrank her, so instead she said, “I was thinking more of an expedition into Gurubashi territory, maybe expand southward a bit, create a buffer in Stranglethorn Vale.”

Highlord first opened his mouth to protest, but he stopped, and then put on a face that told her he was seriously considering it.

“It could work… Maybe? Your true expertise is fighting Trolls in a jungle, we could use that. Though we have so few incursions from there since the First War, I don’t really know how we could make it seem important,” Grand Admiral spoke as she pulled one of the maps closer to herself.

“No. I don’t think it will work. Not a bad idea per se, however, it would be restarting a conflict that was long... on hold, if not over. Granted, the Kingdom still claims rights over most of those lands, but we lack the power to actually press that claim, so it is a moot point.” Bolvar had declared his conclusion with disappointment.

Just as Sylvanas was about to offer another alternative, they heard a hard knock on the door.

“Excuse me Grand Marshal,” Commander Jacob let himself into the room without awaiting an invitation, “However, His Majesty has returned and is asking for all you to meet him in his study, at once.”

They bolted out of the room, without paying attention to the Commander’s salute. From Grand Marshal’s office to the King’s study was not a long way, and three generals basically ran there. When they arrived, Katrana Prestor was already inside. Sylvanas cursed silently; she had hoped to catch the King alone with just the fellow military.

King Varian Wrynn had a grimm face and a sullen mood. He was sitting in his chair, spread over almost carelessly. When they entered and the door was closed behind them, he simply nodded with his head to acknowledge them.

“You all better sit for this one,” He pointed to the chairs in front of his desk as he spoke, “and please keep quiet until I am finished.”

A cold sensation latched itself onto Sylvanas’ spine. They quietly complied with the King’s command and started awaiting his speech. 

After one more moment, he began, “I have talked to King Terenas. The worst parts of the… story we heard are indeed true. Arthas did slaughter everyone in the City of Stratholme and yes, the plague that has been ravaging their country side is turning those who die from it into undead. However, there is more; He left the kingdom. Arthas… had taken the Second Army and a decent chunk of the Lordaeron fleet with him and sailed north. He apparently told Lady Proudmoore he was going to Northrend. They, and I mean Sir Uther and Lady Proudmoore, confirmed that this is indeed the Burning Legion’s doing, or rather an agent of theirs… A demon named Mal’Ganis is the architect behind the plague and allegedly he is hiding somewhere in Northrend. King Terenas was… sorrowful regarding the events at Stratholme, however, he has full confidence in Prince Arthas that he will put an end to that creature and solve this matter, once and for all.”

Varian stopped and reached for the carafe on his desk, pouring a glass full of Dalaran Red. They sat in silence and watched as he drank the whole glass in one go. When he put it back on the carved oak surface, Lady Prestor sofly put her hand on top of it, blocking it from being filled again. King gave her a look and then let go of the glass in surrender.

“Apparently, they had been running around together with Lady Proudmoore for months, trying to solve the mystery. And when they finally did, he went and made the decision himself, despite her objections. King Terenas, refused to reinstate the Order of the Silver Hand. He said he doesn’t want to overrule Arthas, not when he is out in a dangerous mission. He wants his son to be accepted back into Lordaeron when he returns, so he takes his ‘side’, even though he disapproves greatly of his methods. What’s done is done.”

Seeing they were all still quiet, Varian said “That’s it. Now, you are my council, so… council me. Make sense of this mess.”

Out of line or not, something did not fit in her mind, so Sylvanas spoke first, “Why on earth would Lady Katherine be ‘investigating’ some disease in Lordaeron?”

“Oh, not- not her, her daughter Jaina. She is the apprentice of Archmage Antonidas, apparently she volunteered,” clarified the King.

“Well then, why on earth was she investigating, as far as we knew, an internal matter of Lordaeron that, until now, seemed a sad yet insignificant affair?”

“She wasn’t.” The answer came from Lady Katrana Prestor. “A bookish princess did not ‘volunteer’ to go ‘investigate’ a disease hitting small poor villages covered in mud. This whole matter never made sense, until now. It is a ‘magical’ plague. Somehow, the eldest child and heir of Kul’Tiras, who is also the apprentice of Grand Magus of Dalaran, and the son and heir of Lordaeron are the only ones tasked with investigating it. They are not priests, not healers, and for all the talk of Arthas being a paladin, he is not even the strongest one they have, he is average at best. No, they were not investigating, they were doing something that their fathers and masters couldn’t trust with anyone else.”

The more she spoke, the more horrified Sylvanas felt. Because it made sense and Sylvanas could see where it was leading. Dalaran was famous for the reckless experiments of their mages, hell! Humans were famous for their reckless experiments regarding any type of magic. While necromancy was officially banned by the Kirin Tor, they still had access to the information and potential samples thanks to the Second War. That would explain the involvement of a mage in the affair. But it didn’t explain the axis of three separate kingdoms. Something far more sinister than that did. Sylvanas balked at the idea and felt ashamed for even thinking it, but Lady Katrana had no qualms about speaking it out loud,

“Undead was a weapon of the Horde. Which makes it a, well, weapon. Anyone who dares can use it-”

“Now, hold on a moment Lady Prestor,” Highlord looked offended as he cut her off, “Are you implying that- what? King Terenas was trying to make an undead army? That is preposterous!”

“I am in agreement with Grand Marshal here,” Grand Admiral Jes-Tereth joined in, “That is preposterous. Why would they even do that, what would be the purpose?”

Ranger General shifted in her seat as she spoke, “Undead doesn’t tire. They don’t need to eat or rest. Neither cold nor heat affects them. If one could replicate the Death Knights of Gul’dan enmasse… We will need more paladins. Or magical weapons for the entire army and probably both.”

Katrana prestor look at her with a pleased face that Sylvanas did not want to see.

King Varian was silent in his chair, eyes showed increasing concern. Bolvar Fordragon on the other hand, pressed on,

“So there can be a ‘pragmatic’ benefit to it, at the grave cost of one abandoning their honor entirely and committing sacrilege. And in this scenario, we are to believe King Therenas suddenly became that kind of a- cannot say man, but I suppose monster would be fitting, so he became that kind of a monster and had ordered his old friends to make a poison to kill his own people and those friends also became- or I guess for this to hold they will just have to be from the start- monsters, and joined him with no objections and then the entire Kirin Tor, all the magi in the city were fine with it too and no one said a word of it? No. Just no. I normally appreciate the unique perspective provided by both of you esteemed ladies, however, I am drawing the line here. No, no, NO!” His voice had risen to a borderline shout towards the end of his rant, at which Sylvanas managed not to flinch.

Lady Katrana had a far less dignified response; She shot up from her seat, almost hissing the words out, “I am not your child or your servant! Do not presume to chastise me, ever!”  
Even King Varian was startled and in the next second he was up on his feet as well, causing Sylvanas and Jes-Tereth to join him out of respect. He put a hand on Katrana’s arm. She turned back at him swiftly, with a look on her face that said ‘How could you let him talk to me like that?’

Highlord Bolvar slowly got up from his chair, his hand first pulled his hair back and then fixed his doublet, “My apologies Lady Prestor. I did not mean to raise my voice. Could you please forgive me for the infraction?”

Katrana made a point of breathing out loudly in a sigh, “You are forgiven, Sir Fordragon.”

They all sat back down. The King still had his hand on Lady Prestor’s arm, which slowly went lower toward her hand. Sylvanas had to put real effort into not raising one of her eyebrows in question. Really? Was this really happening? ‘Well, he has been lonely for years since his wife died.’ And yet, something in her guts told her this was not right, and she knew that only half of it was out of selfish desire to put more distance between the King and the frugal Speaker of the House. Something about the implication in the scene unfolding in front of her eyes was jarring, however, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, yet.

“If we were to return to the subject at hand,” Grand Admiral was once again the most level headed person in the room, “we can follow Prince Arthas if we so please. The Royal Fleet will be ready for sail at full power in less than two months. We can go join him in Northrend and see for ourselves what’s really there?”

“There is nothing there,” Lady Katrana snapped at Jes-Tereth who kept a cool face. “And if there is anything, it is sure as shadow not a demon army. Perhaps more of that plague or equipment they couldn’t hide here in the Eastern Kingdoms. Mark my words, that boy has it in his mind to challenge his father. No one takes the king’s army and the king’s navy away without permission and then comes back like nothing happened. Maybe Terenas is foolish enough to let him get away with it, but I don’t think the boy is foolish enough to risk it.”

Varian was clearly distraught with the implication, “What are you suggesting now?”

Lady Katrana Prestor leaned on the back of her chair and turned towards King Varian as she spoke, “He is a paladin is he not? And now he was forced to kill a city full of innocents because of his father’s schemes or incompetence, choose whichever you are more comfortable with. You tell me what a paladin is supposed to do after that?” She turned her head specifically to address Highlord Bolvar, “Would a paladin let anyone escape such a horrible act without punishment? Even if they were their own royal sire?”

All color was withdrawn from Bolvar’s face. He did not open his mouth to respond.

Content with his silence, she continued, “He is not the first and won’t be the last prince who rebelled against his kingly father. Lordaeron throne does belong to him by birthright, and now he may have the mind to claim it early.”

A civil war in the Alliance was the last thing they needed. And it were to come to pass, then they would be forced to pick a side. Even if they declared themselves neutral, that would be a choice in and on itself; The stronger side would take it as a validation of their cause and the weaker side would take it as a silent agreement with their opponents. And then came the question of whom their King would choose: The reigning monarch who was like a father to him, or the rebel prince who was like a brother to him?

“Regardless of what may happen in Lordaeron, we need to be prepared. The time for silence is over. We need to inform our troops on the developments up north and get ready for war.” Highlord was fully in control of himself as he spoke.

“We are not ready,” Sylvanas informed them with disappointment. “We may be able to make up for it somewhat, however, unless this potential conflict takes a good year to start, our rangers will not be able to complete their training before hitting the battlefield.”

“Graduation by fire,” said Jes-Tereth with a sigh.

“We cannot wait. Complete the training maneuvers scheduled for this week and then we need them on the field. We need them up north of Khaz Modan. If there is one thing we can all agree on here it is that we cannot rely on Dalaran or Lordaeron to keep us updated. We need boots on the ground to give us information if nothing else.” Bolvar seemed and sounded frustrated.

“Now, slow down for a moment, all of you,” King Varian had clear eyes and a real calmness for the first time this meeting, “We cannot and will not just declare a military incursion into the territories of our allies. Especially not combat missions. Let’s plan this carefully.”

“A reconnaissance operation then. We will give them strict no-engagement orders and make sure they remain hidden from everyone’s eyes. We can remove identification badges, and other official insignia that would show whom they belong to and place gag orders. If they get caught, they are to deny any and all association with the Kingdom and the Army of Stormwind.” Farstriders’ code, she was born in it and her rangers, human or elf, had to live it.

“Deny how? They still be obviously wearing our ‘Ranger Army’ uniforms. No one would believe such a farce,” dismissed Lady Prestor.

“They will deny it all the same, they will claim they had stolen the gear if they must and we won’t accept them either,” Sylvanas answered coldly.

“Wouldn’t that offend or demoralize the troops?” Grand Admiral was speaking from a place of genuine concern.

“It is within the definition of the duties they have signed up for. It is expected of them and on that ground, I trust them with my life and honor. They lack some crucial practical training, not discipline.”

The pride Sylvanas took in her rangers was reflected in more than just her words. Ever since she had arrived in Stormwind, she had known her “place”. She was “nobility” in name only. She owned no land and no properties, she and her entire family was living in the King’s lodge by his leave, he could kick them out anytime he pleased. She was a High Elf in a human kingdom no matter how much Stormwind boasted about being “tolerant”. In the military, she was outranked by two humans whose combined ages were less than her own service time and she was married to another foreigner who was by every sense of the word a “peasant”. And yet, she would not, could not stand anyone, no kings and certainly no mere “speaker” to question the dedication, loyalty and honor of her rangers, regardless of intent. She had crawled in the mud with them, run under the rain with them, shouted at them even insulted them, sent them to do the same tasks over and over again until they perfected it, and even if they were about to collapse they did not disappoint her, not even once. At that moment she was not subordinate to anyone, she was the Ranger General and the entire room felt it in their bones.

All four of the humans in the room got straightened up in their seats and King Varian cleared his throat, “That is it then. A reconnaissance mission for our Ranger Army and the rest of the military will start to prepare for mobilization. Cancel all leaves. And no more grain imports from anywhere north of Khaz Modan. I want our borders secure. Establish camps near the mountain range and anyone coming from Lordaeron should be stopped and taken there for a week, to see if they have the symptoms of a disease or not.”

As the King rose from his seat following his orders, so did they.

“It will be done Your Grace,” Bolvar saluted him, followed by Sylvanas and Jes-Tereth.

“You can all leave, we will meet again tomorrow, noon sharp. Make sure you have everything ready by then. Now… I want to go spend some time with my son,” sadness returned to his face as he said the last words and left the room. They did the same, only after him. Sylvanas made sure to check where Katrana Prestor was going, and at least for now, it didn’t look like she was going towards the same direction as the King.

For their part, Grand Admiral and Grand Marshal went their separate ways and Sylvanas followed her direct superior officer. Once they reached Highlord Bolvar’s office, he simply gestured with his hand as he took his own seat and said, “Sit.”

As soon as her bottom hit the chair, he went straight into business, “We need to inform the staff officers now. We need them to know what’s what. Do you have someone in mind to send over to Lordaeron to command the field there?” 

“Myself and Ranger Lord Nathanos are the only ones qualified to take charge of an operation of the scale we are planning. Do you intend to make the choice yourselves, Grand Marshal?”

“No, there is no need for that. I trust you know the best course of action. I am rather concerned about that no-engagement order though. It would work against other people, but undead… They should be able to fight them. They have enchanted scimitars, silver tipped arrows and some alchemical combustibles if I remember correctly. That makes them the best equipped ones to deal with the threat other than paladins.”

“The question is, which one will have priority; Fighting undead or remaining hidden? If confronting the creatures would expose them, what should be their choice? We can of course, always leave it to the personnel on the ground, trusting officers to make the best possible decision given the situation they are in.”

“Let’s go with that. Micromanaging such special troops often brings more harm than good. They will have a blanket no-engagement order, but it will be flexible.”

Bolvar took a moment to rub his eyes. The next time he spoke, the subject caught her completely off guard, “So… You noticed it too, right?” He had a disappointing surrender in his eyes.

“Ah… You mean…” Sylvanas made a motion of holding her own arm like King Varian did to Lady Prestor.

“Yes, that,” he hit his own teeth with his thumbnail, “I mean, I do not judge obviously, it is not my place, however…” he trailed off without saying anything that might be unpleasant.

Sylvanas on the other hand, took the opportunity to dig further, “How long has this been going on?”

Bolvar shrugged, “I have only noticed it recently, a day before His Majesty left for Lordaeron. I had thought my mind was playing games with me.” He stopped and then added, “He won’t marry her.”

And at that, Sylvanas was confused. She frowned, “If you don’t mind me asking, how do you know?”

“Because he said so. That very day, he said he won’t remarry, ever.”

“Did you ask?”

“No. I wouldn’t dare. I mean… he is my dearest friend, but he is also my king, one of those comes before the other. No, he just up and told me that and then I saw them act all weird, later.”

“Perhaps he was speaking to convince himself?”

Bolvar shook his head in disagreement, “He was full of sorrow when he spoke. I think… I think he too realizes what he is doing is debaucherous, but… I suppose he feels it’s a comfort he couldn’t resist.”

The declaration that an extramarital affair was inherently “debaucherous” made her uncomfortable, but she bit her tongue. Humans were… generally more, prudent if not prudes, and religious ones were a tad bit more so. After years of dealing with their politics and now living among them, she was used to it, till a point. This, however, reminded her that the Highlord was in a similar position himself.

He was no widower of course, but he was estranged from his wife who lived in Lordaeron. Apparently Lady Fordragon had come to Stormwind only once, to attend King Varian’s coronation. She knew it was a political match that King Terenas arranged back during the Second War, in order to strengthen the ties between the two kingdoms and give his own nobles a motivation to help rebuild Stormwind, however, it seemed to be a particularly bad one. They had one daughter, close in age to the Crown Prince Anduin, and the Highlord visited his wife’s estate in Lordaeron several times a year in order to spend time with her, but the girl was never once sent here. It didn’t look like anything more happened in those visits, and Sylvanas knew the paladin was unfortunately restrained by his own morality and did not seek “comfort” elsewhere. Such deprivations only compounded one’s loneliness and people who were suffering from such severe isolation did not make the best decisions or behaved in the best manner, she would know.

“Do you think she will use it to her own benefit?”

Bolvar looked scandalised, “No! She is- No! My concern is for her, after the tragedies of her life, she deserves more than just being the-” he leaned over the table and lowered his voice, “mistress of a man who has no intent to marry her, king or not.”

Sylvanas made a point of raising one of her eyebrows, “I don’t think our lady of concern is as delicate a flower as you believe her to be. She basically whips us whenever we have a meeting and she doesn’t ever show any fear, no matter who is challenging her. I am more worried about the King, and our relationship with him regarding the military. She has a powerful tongue, we didn’t need it any closer to his ears.”

Bolvar gave her a confused look and shook his head in disapproval, “You two have too similar a nature, sometimes the things that come out of your mouth shocks me, like today.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “I suppose since you ‘are’ similar you would know her better, or guess better. Even so, there is nothing we can do, I cannot tell His Majesty to… you know…”

Sylvanas did not enjoy that the Highlord likened her to Lady Prestor, but she couldn’t really object either. She knew the type, and she supposed it did rub off on her, due to all the time she spent in both courts, full of similar people.

There was another thing she felt they needed to address, “If this plague situation intensifies, what will you do?”

He became silent with a serious face, he looked angry. When he spoke, Sylvanas heard real rage in his voice for the first time, “She won’t send her here. I am trying to arrange for her to be taken as ward to somewhere else, but if things come to worst, I am not ‘allowed’ to bring her here,” he continued under his breath, “stubborn woman.”

“While we are at Lordaeron, we can snatch her. Never kidnapped a five year old before, but cannot be more difficult than dragging Troll commanders out of their strongholds,” Sylvanas was joking with the hope that it would get the man to relax, but his expression did not change,

“You jest, but it might come to that. Would it be too tall an order?”

Sylvanas was quiet for a second before she answered, “Are you asking me if I would save a child from undead monsters, if it meant enraging an entire kingdom and maybe causing a war?” She leaned on the back of her chair, “If we get caught, we will deny having any orders and say we acted alone.”

Bolvar snorted, he had half a smile on his face but his eyes showed he was hurting, “I understand she is her mother, I understand that. But Taelia is my daughter too, mine, I have- I should have the right…”

He shook his head one more time then pulled a paper in front of him and grabbed his quil, “I’ll handle the paperwork, you focus on your operation only. Inform Commanders Jacob and Andrea, they are to call on the other Field Marshals to handle the rest of the work.”

Ranger General got up from her seat and stood at attention, “We will also need a code name for the operation, as this will be a covert one, we need a method to address it without exposing it.”

Bolvar raised his head from the paper in front of him for a moment and then said, “Call it ‘Visitor’, make sure to encrypt all reports.”

“As you command Grand Marshal.” Sylvanas sharply saluted the Highlord and left his study for her own. 

Once she arrived at her own quarters, she summoned the two Commanders and gave them their orders. Her adjutant, Ranger Captain McCree, was awaiting her at the door and after the Commanders were gone, she turned to him, “Summon the rest of the staff officers, we will have an emergency meeting here, starting in 10 minutes. Once everyone arrives, clear the floor and put it under lockdown.”

Ranger Captain saluted her swiftly and ran down the stairs.

* * * * * * * *

The Grand Lodge of the Ranger Army of Stormwind was hidden deep inside Elwynn Forest. Built in the traditional style of Quel’dorei Farstrider lodges, it had a mess hall on the first floor that served as an auditorium when needed and it was needed now: The shutters were sealed shut, enchanted runes were activated to prevent any noise from getting out. With magical shrouding curtains blocking any sunlight, the mess hall was enlightened by illuminator crystals embedded in its ceiling. Sitting on the wooden benches in rows, were all 1000 members of the ranger army combat personnel. On the stage at the end of the hall, there were several boards with their contents hidden behind covers. As Ranger Lord Nathanos Marris walked up to the stage, Ranger Captain Troteman shouted, “ATTEEENTION!”

The entire room shot up to their feet with a salute. The Ranger Lord signalled with his hand for all of them to sit back down and went to the first board in the middle. Pulling down the cover, he turned towards the rangers and his booming voice filled the room,

“Operation Visitor: A covert recon mission across allied, neutral and potentially hostile territory. Primary Objectives: Acquiring intel on the operational activities of the state and military organizations of each region. Identifying and assessing the threat or the potential of a threat of undead and/or demonic activity. Secondary Objectives: Mapping of the defensive positions and patrol routes of military organizations active in each region. Identifying and accounting their strengths, both of numbers and of equipment. Is everyone following so far?”

“Yes Sir!” came the unified answer from the hall.

Nathanos continued, uncovering another board, “This is an undercover operation. Rule number one: Absolutely, under no circumstances, can you expose yourselves or your mission. You will remain hidden from the local populace no matter what. I fucking repeat, you are not allowed to show yourselves to anyone, ever! You will not mention what your mission is, who you are or whom you work for to anyone. When you get deployed, your families will be given cover stories and the record of this mission will be sealed until your death or such a time that the King himself sees it fit to make them public. Once you hit the field, you are not going to be ‘rangers’ or ‘Stormwinders’ or ‘Alliance personnel’. No identification badges, no tags, no insignia, no display of banner, flag or coat of arms of any kind. If you get captured, you will keep your mouths shut and under no circumstances will you give information regarding your identity, affiliation or mission. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?”

“YES SIR!” the entire room shouted back.

“Rule number two: NO-ENGAGEMENT! This is not a combat mission. You are not to engage any hostiles that may be in your area or threaten you. If you face any human, elven, dwarven or gnomish presence that threatens you, fucking hide and if you cannot hide, fucking run. I FUCKING REPEAT: DO NOT ENGAGE! CLEAR?”

“YES SIR!”

“If you face any undead or demon, protecting your cover takes absolute priority, however, you may engage these if you, on the field, believe the need has arisen. The officers and petty officers will have the responsibility and you can all be court martialed, depending on the outcome. Is there any questions?”

One of the rangers raised his hand.

“Yes, Ranger Danforth.”

“Sir, will we be allowed to engage Orcs and Trolls if we face them?”

“Same rules as the undead and demons apply. Anything else? IS EVERYONE CLEAR?”

“YES SIR!”

“Good. Now,” Nathanos moved towards the rest of the boards and took off their covers one by one, exposing several maps and details showing pretty much everything north of Thandol Span; Only Gilneas and Quel’Thalas were left out. “This is your area of operation. Each company will operate in a specific predetermined section. Any fluidity between companies and regions will depend on the circumstances on the field. First and foremost, everyone will learn their area and focus on them. However, since fluidity is an option, EACH AND EVERY SINGLE RANGER WILL STUDY ALL THESE MAPS UNTIL THEY CAN DRAW THEM FROM MEMORY.”

“YES SIR!”

“We will be having training exercises and lectures every day and every night for the next three weeks. You will be given courses on field tactics and your gear, the actual study required for the operation will fall on you to complete on your own. Starting from now until deployment, you will not leave the facilities in Elwynn, any type of contact with the outside is strictly forbidden. RANGER CAPTAINS!”

The officer core of the Ranger Army jumped from their seats and stood at attention.

“Divide the room between each company and start the briefing of your troops,” And with that, Nathanos went down from the stage. As he passed through the length of the hall, rangers were turning benches, moving boards and taking out their journals. The staff officers had been actively involved in the planning of the operation and thus, knew it by heart. And now it was their turn to drill it into their units’ mind. Exiting the mess hall, he half run up the stairs and went to the Ranger General’s office there.

Inside, the Ranger General was examining a manual about several alchemical components and their use. Since they needed to hasten the process of training their cadets, these were made to aid them on the field, in case they needed it.

“Ranger Lord, look at this and tell me what’s wrong,” Sylvanas extended the manual to Nathanos without getting up from her seat.

“Yeah, if you put that much Firebloom in the Oil of Immolation, it will explode in your hand.”

“They all have the formula wrong and it’s not just the oil. Flasks have errors in their component lists as well. This entire batch is just a waste of paper, we have to get them all reprinted.” Frustrated, she threw the two other manuals on her desk into the trash pile of paper at the other side of the room.

“When things go fast, they always go wrong as well, here and there.”

“We will have dozens of men and women out of commission because they blew their fingers off trying to follow a faulty instruction.” 

Sylvanas was annoyed and enraged about more than just a bunch of misprinted manuals. The training maneuvers hadn’t gone as terribly as they had assumed, yet it was still a disaster in her eyes. She wanted to be out there on the field with them, as if she alone could somehow make up for the year they were lacking from their training. However, logic, not desires dictated decisions and the decision had been made; Nathanos would be the executive commander in charge of the operation and she would stay here, in Stormwind. As soon as they got the word from Grand Admiral they would deploy and after that, everything would be out of her hands.

The situation at the court was getting more erratic by the day as well. When Lady Katrana Prestor took to the floor at the House of Nobles for an extension of the taxes, she had faced fierce opposition, to the point that a portion of the city guard was brought inside the building to keep the order. Which only created a bigger commotion out in the streets. In the end, fear took over the capital with stories half true-half a lie regarding what was exactly going on in Lordaeron. She didn’t like how quickly they had spread and how convenient they were, however, those stories convinced the House to pass the extension. Sylvanas couldn’t complain, but she made sure to take a mental note of the whole situation, how quickly it flared up and how quickly it died down.

Due to the whole wartime preparations she was barely at home, if ever. Which meant she couldn’t see her daughter properly and probably wouldn’t be able to for a long while. At least until this whole situation was resolved, one way or another.

The three weeks of training that they had given themselves passed more successfully than they hoped and just a week later, deployment time had arrived. It was midnight in Stormwind and the docks were filled with rangers waiting to board. Slowly they got loaded into the frigates and Sylvanas watched them from the battlements overlooking the harbor. Her Ranger Lord stood beside her, looking into the scene he would soon join.

“They got this. They will shit the bed here and there, but they are talented professionals and they got trained by the best.” Nathanos was speaking more to ease her concern than anything else. He had already said his goodbyes to his daughter, who did not and probably would not understand why he was gone. Arator had hugged him first and then saluted him like a soldier on his way out. The boy was getting stiffer and stiffer, and looked more brittle since his departure was announced. When he got back, he would make sure to sit him down and have a proper talk about what it means to be a man.

This was neither the first, nor the last time Sylvanas would send him out to a dangerous mission far away. And yet, somehow this one hurt, ate at her heart. She actually knew why, but for a good while she did not confess it to herself. She feared confessing would tempt fate, bring about all of her worst nightmares. So she pushed them all down and put on her ranger general face. And then they had said their goodbyes as well, in the privacy of their bedroom, without fear. Confessing her worst to Nathanos was easier than saying it to herself, it had always been.

When the last of the companies started boarding, it was time for him to leave as well. They exchanged a sharp salute,

“Good fortunes on your mission Ranger Lord.”

“Thank you Ranger General. But I have the best of luck in all of the Eastern Kingdoms, so if you could just go tell my wife not to worry too much, that would be great.” He gave her a cheeky grin.

“If nothing else, all the arrows they will accidentally shoot you with will bring you some humility.”

“If I get shot, I will use that as an excuse to avoid any and all work at home, love.”

“In your dreams, Nat.” She smiled for a moment, and then gave him her ultimate order, “Come back.”

He looked as serious as the day they were sworn to each other, “I will.”

And then, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I rewrote this chapter three times now. Half of it got thrown out in the final edit, so I'm afraid it is a rather short one. However, I do hope I will be able the post the next one within two weeks time, so there is that!


	4. COLLAPSE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has been edited to correct some spelling errors. Apologies.

As summer arrived, the green and lush fields of Lordaeron were resisting the call to turn yellow. Within the tall grass, lie three rangers in green-brass uniforms that blended into the scenery. Ahead of them was a dirt road and at the other side of the road, surrounded by a rather sparse set of trees, was the Balnir Farmstead.

They were waiting for the patrol that passed from that road every day, just past noon. Today, they were late.The Captain checked his gnomish pocket watch; More than an hour had passed the usual time. These patrols weren’t minute accurate, however, they were not this lax either.

“Click-Clack.”

The clatter got all three rangers freeze their already minimal movements. To an untrained ear, it could have sounded like an insect or a small bird, however they knew better. Their Captain reached into his pocket with his hand and brought out his own metal cricket,

“Click-Clack, Click-Clack.”

The double sound he made was answered by shuffling noises and now they could see the grass shifting, down southwest side of the lower road. With a small shake of his head, he sent one of his rangers towards that direction,

“Click-Clack.”

“Click-Clack, Click-Clack.”

Ranger Alessa stopped her crawling when she felt she was close enough to the road.

“White.” She said with an almost too loud whisper.

“Lion!” Came the answer from the other side and five other rangers quickly jumped from the grass they were hiding in and made their way to Alessa. The brown haired, blue eyed woman made an awkward salute from her crawling position,

“Sir, Ranger Alessa, Sir.”

“Ranger Captain Talmont, where is your superior officer?”

“We have Captain Jason looking over the farm road. Our Ranger Captain Velrek went into the city Sir.”

“Oooo shit!” Said one from Talmont’s squad. Ranger Captain went up in a sitting position and took out his journal from his front pocket,

“You go tell your platoon, they are to keep their eyes open for the Prince.”

“The Prince? Sir?”

“Prince Arthas, he has returned to the Kingdom via the North Coast. He has his army with him, they don’t seem to be marching for war, but still. When your Ranger Captain returns, tell them what I have just told you. We are moving further east to inform the Ranger Lord.”

Talmont took a few notes in his journal with his compressed charcoal and then put them both back into his front pocket under his leather armor-jacket.

“Click-Clack.”

They all turned towards the direction of the sound. Ranger Captain reponsed with his own two clicks and then sent Alessa on her way. He and his platoon kept going eastward, now able to run at least at half speed thanks to knowing their allies’ position.

* * * * * * * *

Nathanos had just returned from his inspection of the company operating in Andorhal. He took his jacket off and sat in his tent, looking over the recent reports, comparing them with the earlier ones,

“How are your shits Troteman?” 

“They are ongoing Sir.” Ranger Captain Troteman had a less pale face than before and even managed to crack a small smile.

“If you turn into undead, do give us a heads up, will you?”

“Yes Sir!”

Since the operation had begun, they had not faced any combat situations and his boys and girls managed to work undetected by locals, civilian or otherwise. When they moved deeper into the countryside of Lordaeron, they had made it a priority to follow the story of the plague and pinpoint its origin. Andorhal seemed to be the place, however, their limited ability to speak with people made every bit of information too obscure for his taste.

In the meantime, Nathanos had chosen the woodlands just south of Stratholme for his headquarters. Lordaeron did not make any moves to reclaim or clean out the city, and kept no patrols around either. Besides the fact that Prince Arthas had taken a decent chunk of their army away, it rather seemed like King Terenas kept his soldiers and his people inside the cities and castles, rather than allowing free travel as he used to.

“Ranger Lord, Sir?”

“Yes Ranger Captain Blueheart.”

“Sir, I was thinking, perhaps we can work on the City of Stratholme itself.”

“We had already ‘worked’ on the city, we even got some samples from the remains in the city.”

“That is quite correct Sir, however, while the homes are burnt down, the stone walls of this great stronghold still stand. We can refit it with ease to protect ourselves, if the need arises.”

“We cannot protect ourselves ‘if the need arises’. Did you forget this is not a combat mission? If we face a threat where we have to hide in a walled city, we are leaving. Our orders on that regard is clear.”

Ranger Captain Joanna Blueheart looked rather disappointed. She had a mind to be a proper ranger lord someday, however, she had a tendency to think too much on stuff she wanted to do and then make them fit the book, and not the other way around. 

Rex and Bolt raised their heads and shot up on their feet in an instant. The alarm of the dogs made the ranges around pick their bows and turn them to the direction that the two mastiffs were looking at, with arrows nocked and drawn.

“White! WHITE GOD DAMN IT,” came a shout from far outside the camp’s west side.

“LION!” Roared Nathanos in response.

Ranger Captain Talmont showed himself from behind a tree,

“I used the cricket and I said the code, but none of these imbeciles at the watch responded!”

“So you decided it was a good idea to try and sneak in?” Ranger Captain Troteman looked pissed.

“No, I decided I should get closer so that they can hear!”

“Cut the crap, both of you! Fucking staff officers right there, setting a real example for the rank and file.” Nathanos interrupted the spat between the two with a chastisement of his own,

“Well? Don’t fucking stand there, come here!”

Talmont and the rest of his squad walked past the watchers at the perimeter, both sides giving each other nasty looks.

“Sir, I have come to report that Prince Arthas has returned to Lordaeron Kingdom proper. The last we had seen him, he and his army has been marching south towards the Capital City.”

Joanna and Troteman both had alarm on their face, however, Nathanos kept calm,

“Who did you leave in charge of tailing him?”

“Rest of my company and I also informed a portion of Ranger Captain-” he pulled out his journal and shifted through the pages, “Ranger Captain Velrek’s company. They were on the Balnir Farmstead, apparently the Ranger Captain himself went into Lordaeron City.” 

“Everyone, get your gear. I want every single one of you to be ready to up and march out at a moment’s notice. Troteman! Send out riders to all companies, tell them to get ready as well. When I give the order, they will all leave from the evacuation zones in the regions they are in, not their original appointments. I don’t want anyone running around cross country. Halters! Send three gryphon riders to Stormwind immediately! They will inform the Ranger General personally that the Prince is back in Lordaeron. THE RANGER GENERAL! NOT ANYONE ELSE! CLEAR?”

“YES SIR!” The two Ranger Captains run to carry out their orders as Nathanos turned towards Ranger Captain Joanna Blueheart,

“Blueheart! Gather your company, you will go to Lordaeron City at once and keep a close watch on it, now. I want to be informed about any changes immediately, do not wait for scheduled updates!”

“Yes Sir!”

When the rest of his fellow officers all scattered around, Talmont stayed behind with unease,

“Sir, what’s going to happen now?”

“Best case scenario: Nothing. “Nathanos had put his leather jacket back on, along with his bow and quiver, “We will wait and continue to observe and eventually the High Command will call us back home. Worst case scenario: Shit will hit the fan, then we will be forced to evacuate immediately. We don’t have the authority to take part in any conflict.” He got his backpack on and fastened the straps over his chest.

“Cheer up Talmont,” He slapped the stiff Ranger Captain on his shoulder, “One way or another, we will soon be on our way home.”

* * * * * * * *

Ranger Captain Joanna Blueheart had divided her company into three; The First Platoon were positioned between the Balnir Farmstead and the Capital City. The Second Platoon were at the western foothills of the Uplands. The Third Platoon were in the northeast side of Shining Strand. Satisfied that she had all three directions covered, she had sent a few observers further in the Uplands, to keep an eye on Lordamere Lake.

Just 20 minutes after the First Platoon reported the sight of the Prince’s army, they got the visual from their positions in the Uplands. Looking through her spyglass, she tried to make a count of the troops following him. The Capital City did not show any alarm or any preparation for an assault or a siege. For their part, the Prince’s army also didn’t seem prepared to fight either, they were on a rather speedy yet undisciplined walk. This was good news, it meant the dreaded civil war would be avoided.

Still, she felt uneasy. The “renegade” forces had managed to cover quite a distance in a remarkably short time. Granted, they didn’t carry any siege weapons and from the North Coast they had followed flat plains, now dry in early summer, fit for quick tracking.

“They are opening the gates,” she was speaking more to herself than her second in command.

“The King will accept his son back. We have been informed that this would happen,” Captain Anderson took notes on her journal as she answered.

“Anderson,” Blueheart turned to her, extending her spyglass, “Can you count them?”

Slightly bewildered, Anderson did as she was asked and started counting the army waiting at the gates,

“Looks about 5000 strong.”

Joanna Blueheart took the spyglass back, “That’s what I thought.”

“If you don’t mind me asking Ma’am, what seems to be the matter?”

“Check your notes Captain, that’s pretty much the same number the Prince had allegedly left with.”

Captain Anderson quickly went back in her pages, and saw that it was true,

“Weren’t they supposed to go hunt a demon Ma’am?”

“They were.”

“... Maybe the demon didn’t expect to be found and didn’t have much defenses?”

“Maybe.”

Ranger Captain took a deep breath in frustration. She decided she would need to check the renegades closer. With a simple gesture of her hand she signaled her intent and all four of her aides started to move. Once they were in a position she liked, they settled back down. By that time, half of the army was already inside the city. She pulled out her spyglass again and restarted her observation,

“Why do they all have their faces covered?”

* * * * * * * *

Waiting was what they had been doing for weeks now, and yet, waiting in anticipation was still different and stressful. Nathanos didn’t really feel it himself, however, he could see it in his rangers: Talmont was fidgeting where he sat, Troteman was at the back of some tree, shitting. At every sound the nature made, heads were turned, hands on sword hilts. They had already picked up their tents, so now they were sitting in the open woods. Almost everyone had lowered themselves to the ground, some in the crawling position. The watchers on the perimeter trees were either lying down on the branches or were perched up like birds.

One of them shifted at his post,

“Sir! Sir, There is a whole company running towards here from the south!”

Nathanos jumped to his feet together with his mastiffs and the rest of the rangers followed, mumbling among themselves,

“What the fuck?”

“Shhh.”

The Ranger Lord went to the edge of the perimeter and took out his spyglass. It was not a company, rather a mix of several companies. He could see Ranger Captain Blueheart at the front and as soon as they were in earshot she started shouting,

“White! White!”

“LION!” The whole camp shouted back.

Nathanos turned towards his rangers, “Talmont, go grab Troteman, Danforth, you’re with me.” The red headed ranger followed his superior’s command and they both started running to meet the incoming group, Rex and Bolt at their side.

“What the fuck is going on here Ranger Captain?”

“Sir-” She looked like she had been running for the good part of a day and as soon as she stopped, she bent down, trying to prop herself on her knees with her hands.

“Easy, easy now, Blueheart.” Nathanos looked at the back of the group and saw they were all pretty much in the same condition and they had- civilians following them!? He bent down to her ear,

“The fuck did you do? Did you fucking expose yourself?”

“Sir,” she still couldn’t stand up straight, but there was a fire in her eyes, “The Capital City has fallen. Three days ago, the Prince, in league with the undead, slayed King Terenas and put the people to the sword. We- I ordered my company to gather everyone they could find and we made our way here. We went round back down some farms, and warned people from there as well. Sir, the Prince’s army is going in expanding circles around the city, scourging the countryside. I had sent runners to inform you-” she started coughing. Nathanos pulled her down from her her shoulders and made her sit. He took out his canteen and had her drink from it,

“Danforth, call them all out, we are leaving.”

“No!” Joanna spat some water on herself. “Sir, the fucking Lordaeron army is gone. These people have no one else to defend them.”

“We cannot defend them either, Captain.”

“We can! We can if we use Stratholme-”

“WE CANNOT!” Nathanos shouted in her face. His ears were ringing, his mind was swirling. Not too far from here, was the Marris Stead, his uncle’s family, his family…

“We have our own orders to follow here.”

“Sir,” She straightened herself up where she sat, “Our orders said we could engage the undead if we saw it fit on the field-”

“‘If the commanding officer sees it fit.’ As the CO, I do not see it fit, so we are not doing it. Listen to me! We have less than 200 rangers here, we have no heavy weapons, we have no food stock to feed these people, we cannot stand against a siege. Even if we went inside Stratholme, we cannot hold it, we would be overrun. We didn’t come here to die to make a point, we came here for a specific operation, with specific rules.”

He looked back at the civilians approaching from far behind,

“How many did you bring?”

“About 500.”

“Shit!” He stood up. Troteman and Talmont had arrived, with the rest of the rangers at their back. They were all looking at him with fear and agitation apparent in their eyes, “Shit.”

He took a moment to compose himself, ‘Come back’ was his order, however, he couldn’t, not like this.

“Alright everyone gather around, listen up! Troteman, send out the signal, all rangers across all regions are to go to the nearest evac zone as soon as possible.”

Ranger Captain Troteman took a large, dwarven rifle type gear out of his backpack and handed it to Captain Keeshan, who took off running towards the designated signal area.

“Halters! Take your gryphon and go, do not stop until you reach Stormwind. You need to inform the Ranger General, the Grand Marshal and the King of what is going on here, now!”

Ranger Captain Halters jumped on the beast he had with him and took to the air within moments. As some watched him go, Nathanos continued, immediately drawing their attention back on himself,

“Now, we have about 500 civilians here, they are coming with us. We will be marching uphill, and pass near Quel’Thalas, so watch out for their Farstriders. The priority is to evacuate the civilians first, using the boats we hid there. Once they are all sent to the frigate waiting at the open sea, then we will start to move out.”

Danforth raised his hand.

“Yes!?”

“Sir, that frigate won’t take us all.”

“No, it won’t. We will probably have to wait for another ship to be sent out.”

That bit of declaration got them all shifting where they stood, but no one said anything.

“Once all the civilians are transported, we will leave for the North Lordaeron Mountains and hide there until our turn comes.” Nathanos looked around, “Blueheart, you are in charge.”

Everyone blinked,

“Sir?” Ranger Captain Joanna raised from the ground.

“I have to go warn the Ranger General Lor’themar Theron. None of you can get in Quel’Thalas and even if you did, you would be shot and killed immediately.”

Just as he finished talking the light of the flare followed by the loud sound of gunpowder hit them.

“This is it everyone, the signal is sent. Divide yourselves into six groups and surround the civilians, they are to remain in the center at all times. Do not run off, you can only go as fast as they can and do not stop either, drag them if you must. See you all at the EZ.”

All of the rangers went into the position of attention and saluted their Ranger Lord and their Ranger Lord saluted them back,

“Good fortunes to you all.”

“YES SIR! GOOD FORTUNES SIR!”

And with that, he started running east, towards Thalassian pass. Rex and Bolt were running with him, their ears up. He did not turn back to look at how his rangers were handling themselves, he had to put his trust in them to succeed this without him being there to babysit. Besides, he had his own task.

This was a self appointed task and depending on how it went, it could very well make him a prisoner or get him court martialed. Still, he could not run past the High Elf lands without warning them about what was coming. Maybe they would be fine with being neighbours with a kin slaying, heretical usurper, but they first needed to know that the Prince Arthas that was taking charge of the kingdom at their border -was indeed- a “kin slaying, heretical usurper.”

He gave himself better odds at breaching the border than what Ranger General Lor’themar would like, however, that bit of banter could wait. It took him all day and a good chunk of the night to make it to the Kingdom. Once he passed it, he would need to find a farstrider post and then manage to convince them to pass on a message to their Ranger General and not throw him into a dungeon in the process. These odds, he did not like.

Using his knowledge of the patrol routines of Quel’dorei army, he awaited until he managed to spot an elven ranger. The moonless night did not do him any favors, however, his loyal hunting partners could smell and hear far better than him. They made subtle movements, taught to them by their master, and alerted him to the passing patrol. A farstrider was “easier” to spot, if you knew that they “were” there and at which direction, and once he did spot them, he was successful at avoiding them. After they passed, he made his way inside the borders of the High Elven Kingdom.

He took a blind shot and decided to try one of the old posts he knew about from his days in the Quel’Thalas’ Ranger Army. As he walked towards there, he kept his head low and made sure his hands were empty; If they spotted him before he spotted them, he didn’t wish to appear like a threat. Though, being a human, he would probably get shot once, just for insult’s sake.

The old post was there alright, but before the post, there were several crystals, embedded in the ground. If he hadn’t known the terrain before, he would have missed them. Not knowing what kind of crystals they were, he decided that taking the risk of explosion was not worth it and instead, he commanded his dogs to sit and wait, while he climbed onto the nearest tree and made his way through the branches.

Once he reached the proper conversation distance and after making sure he had decent enough cover in case things went south, he took out his whistle and blew it in three short intervals.

Immediately, the farstriders at the post turned towards his position. One of them got his own whistle and blew it in response.

“How are you doing fellas?” Nathanos had never bothered fixing the accent of his Thalassian, so they knew he was a human.

“Show yourself intruder! At once!”

“Alright, just make sure you don’t shoot me. I have this wife, I fear she might not like me with two dozen arrows in my face.”

“Stop joking around you insolent pig and come out in the open!”

Nathanos swiftly went down from the tree and walked up to the place directed, with his hands in the air,

“I have brought some dire news from across the border and I fear I cannot tell them to you. You will need to call your Ranger Lords, Brightwing or Hawkspear, either of them would do. Or you can call your Ranger General Theron, that would work the best.”

“In your dreams-”

The elven ranger stopped in the middle of his sentence, looking at him in confusion,  
“Eeehh, Ranger Lor-, eeehh, Sir Marris?”

“Ah! Captain Helios! How nice to see you?” It was his luck, to find one of the rangers he had served with, one who didn’t particularly took offense at his presence among their ranks. ‘What did I say love? The luckiest man in all of the Eastern Kingdoms!’

“Ahm, Sir, I’m afraid you are not allowed in the kingdom anymore, we have to arrest you.”

“That is quite alright. In fact, being such a high profile intruder, you should take me to the highest authority you can find.”

Helios gave the order to his fellow rangers and they went down from their posts.

As they started to approach, Nathanos spoke up again, “I have my mastiffs with me, and I saw some crystals in the ground…”

“Ah those, eeee, just call them from the far side this way,” Captain Helios made a large arc with his right hand.

Nathanos whistled and turned towards Rex and Bolt, making the same move as Helios and they followed.

When the two elven rangers started to bind Nathanos’ hands behind his back with leather ropes, his mastiffs growled, but he silenced them with a simple command. They blindfolded him with a black piece of cloth, however, they did not gag him nor did they do anything to his feet. His sword, dagger, bow and quiver were taken.

“Ranger Lord Brightwing is at the base camp, Sir,” and with that, Helios and his squad started marching him.

A half hour walk, done in circles as per procedures, and then they were at the base camp. The guards there did sound confused, however, they did not interfere. Soon, Nathanos found himself sitting on his legs in a tent, his dogs waiting just outside, making pitiful noises.

The tent flapped open and close. A less than gentle hand almost ripped the blindfold, nearly making him fall on his face,

“What the hell do you think you are doing here?”

Standing in front of him was not Ranger Lord Brightwing, but the Ranger General himself.

“Came to warn you of the things going down in Lordaeron, as we speak.”

“They are dying of a disease. Yes, we know.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call getting put to the sword a ‘disease’, but eh? Who am I to challenge the Ranger General’s wisdom?”

Lor’themar Theron narrowed his eyes. He was looking at the human man with an anger that Nathanos hadn’t previously seen. The next time the elven man spoke, he spat out the words in common, like they were creating a bad taste in his mouth,

“She left ‘us’ to be with ‘you’. So now, what are ‘you’ doing ‘here’?”

Nathanos swallowed the retort he had on his tongue and instead went straight into the matter,

“Prince Arthas has returned from his expedition in Northrend. I don’t know if you even knew he had left, but he is back now. He killed his father and sacked the Capital City. He is using necromancy, he has undead at his side and the last we heard, the source of these undead was a demon called Mal’Ganis, so, it could be that he is in league with the Burning Legion, or at least an agent of it.”

Lor’themar and Nathanos had never gotten along, and it seemed like the dislike the elven man had for him had reached the point of true hatred ever since they had last seen each other. However, if there was one thing Ranger Lord Theron never did, that was taking Nathanos for a frivolous man and Ranger General Theron didn’t make that mistake either,

“How do you know all of this?”

“I was here in the Northlands, for the past, 'classified information' amount of time, for a ‘classified information’ with my ‘classified information’. The event I told you about happened around 4 days ago.”

The Ranger General went from standing straight to stooping, his hands rubbing his eyes, “I should have you executed for spying.”

“I’m afraid that would be a bit of a problem for me. You see, my wife kinda made me promise that I would return, and I have the feeling that she meant alive.”

The word “wife” caused a visible shift in Lor’themar’s mood. Looking over to him now, with the intent to examine, Nathanos could see a golden engagement ring, made in the traditional Quel’dorei style, on his finger,

“Congratulations,” he said with sincerity as he nodded towards the ring.

The elven man looked at his own hand and then, “Captain Helios and his squad will escort you out of our kingdom. The next time you set foot into our lands, regardless of intent, your life is forfeit.”

Nathanos made a frustrated sigh, “I am having the distinct impression that you are not taking this seriously.”

“We are not part of the Alliance, their internal matters are of no concern to us. Whatever civil war your people are waging, Quel’Thalas will have no part in it. We will only look to secure our borders… Don’t think you can send some refugees here!”

“Oh don’t worry, never had that delusion. But if you truly ‘mean’ to secure your borders, I suggest that you start now. I know you guys no longer have any farstriders abroad, which means if a danger is coming your way, you won’t know it until it hits you.”

“Don’t try to teach me my job, Marris, I know it very well,” He was clearly angry and yet, Lor’themar still went behind him and took off his bindings, “Now piss off and take your mutts with you.”

Nathanos came out of the tent and made a quick whistle to Rex and Bolt. Together they went to Captain Helios and left the camp. The elven rangers made a point of escorting him all the way outside of the border and only handed him his gear over once he was well and properly away from there. Helios gave him an almost apologetic look, before they turned around and went back into their own woods.

Exhaustion was about to hit Nathanos, however, he had his own rangers to go back to. After taking a moment to drink from his canteen, he turned towards his dogs,

“What pompous assholes amaright?”

A short, enthusiastic bark from both mastiffs was his answer.

* * * * * * * * 

When they had reached their evacuation zone, the rangers and civilians were both at the point of fatigue. Ranger Captain Joanna Blueheart, now the Temporary CO, had sent Captain Keeshan with another flare gun to the hills, this time to signal to the frigate that was supposed to wait for them away from the coast.

Ranger Krakauer and a few others were taking the boats out from where they had hidden them. They seemed undamaged and untampered with, which was good news. She looked back at the rest of the troops.

If Ranger Captain Troteman wasn’t dying, then he sure as hell looked like he was. His face was a white so pale, he was almost glowing even under the new moon. He was basically carried by Ranger Danforth for the entire way today, his subtle weight loss now far more apparent. She approached him with determination,

“Ranger Captain Troteman. You are to leave with the civilians. Captain Anderson! You are in charge of Troteman’s company.”

“Yes Ma’Am.”

“Ma’am, that is completely unnecessary,” protested the man, “I am a bit winded is all. Once I rest a bit, I can do my duties.”

“Troteman… You are going with them,” she had a finality in her voice.

Ranger Captain forced himself back up from where he was sitting, “Now, I understand and respect that you are the TCO, however, I am the veteran here; I fought in the First War, I fought in the Second War, I damn assure you I am not missing this one.”

Blueheart gave him a sad smile, “Don’t worry Ranger Captain, I have a feeling that this is going to be a long one. Danforth!” She signaled to the Ranger, “Help him off to the frigate, you’re leaving in the first boat.”

“Yes Ma’am!”

A green flare brightened up the night sky. The loud boom of the gun echoed down from the hills. They waited for what felt like an eternity. And then, across the open waters of the North Sea, another green light began to climb the night sky. Just after the muffled sound of the gun reached the shore, yellow-white lights appeared on the water, the frigate was there.

“Alright everyone, take turns carrying the civilians, children and elderly first, the rest later. Do not separate children from their parents. Talmont, go with the first party and explain the situation to the captain there, tell them they have to take the civilians, tell them it’s the Ranger Lord’s orders. And that we will be waiting here for another ship.”

As the work to ferry the Lordaeronites began, the rest of the rangers who were not tasked with the job started making their way up to the hills of the North Lordaeron Mountains.

“Think of it this way Ranger Captain,” Danforth spoke with cheer as he carried the still disgruntled man to the boats , “Some smarty marine is gonna get the honor of shoveling your shit!”

The rangers all around laughed at that, even Troteman couldn’t help himself. It took them a good two hours, however, they had managed to send all of the civilians, even if it required the frigate to drop a large chunk of its cargo. Once the operation was completed, they hid their boats to their original places and went up the mountain as well.

It wasn’t even a full day later when their Ranger Lord had arrived and took back the command,

“How is it going?”

“We are fine Sir. I had sent Ranger Captain Troteman back with the civilians, he was too ill.”

“That’s alright, did they create any problems, the navy?”

“Apparently the Captain of the frigate had said a few things about making a complaint, but they allowed it.”

“Oh no, complaints!” Nathanos made a face of fake worry and his rangers giggled like children. “Where are we on the food?”

“We have been rationing it since departure, we can hold out for weeks, assuming we don’t hunt.”

“We cannot hunt. I have seen a few of… Prince’s soldiers. It looks like he has a proper undead army at his command and they are getting closer. At the very least, there was movement both eastward and northward. We have to remain hidden, engagement at this point isn’t a concern for rule breaking, it’s a flat out security risk for us. Don’t do anything unless forced to. Talmont! You and your company will take the watch on the east side. Blueheart, your company will guard the north, we need to be able to see far out into the open waters. Anderson! Take the remaining rangers and spread over south and west. We need eyes on the other side of the mountains.”

“YES SIR!”

The following few days were spent in an uneasy quiet. The same waiting habits from before had returned, however, everyone seemed to be more in control of themselves this time.

Ranger Krakauer and his two other squad mates were on watch duty at the lower east hills. Below them, was a not so steep descent that was still full of large, sharp rocks. It was Krakauer who first spotted movement down at the shore, where their EZ was.

“That looks like a person to me.”

“Yep, Krakauer, you genius, that is a ‘person’ alright, standing on two feet, clear humanoid shape. The question is, whose ‘person’ are they? One of ours or one of theirs?”

“That looks like a ranger uniform to me,” said Krakauer, hurt apparent in his voice, “And this is our EZ.”

They were still a few days away from a full moon and the night was too dark for their eyes to pick up colours.

“I am calling Ranger Captain Talmont, he would know what to do,” Ranger Trippier went for his superior officer and returned with him in tow a few moments later.

“Let me see,” Talmont took out his spyglass and checked the figure at the shore, “Yep, that is a ranger and a woman.”

“There is no one else left to use this EZ Sir.”

“Blueheart’s company weren’t supposed to use here either, however, when their route got closed by the Prince’s army, they were forced to.”

“Damn! Ranger Captain, you’re telling us that there might be other rangers out there stuck too!?”

“Maybe… Could be one of Ranger Captain Velrek’s. We haven’t heard from them since the Capital City fell.” He pondered for a moment. “I am going to go check. If we try to countersign from here, we might expose our positions needlessly,” he unstrapped his backpack and put it on the ground. “Keep your eyes open,” and then, he slowly started to go down on the hill, his cricket in hand. The remaining rangers grabbed their bows and nocked their arrows.

Once he had reached what he believed to be an appropriate distance, he challenged and awaited a reply,

“Click-Clack.”

The ranger at the shore froze. Their head was raised ever so slightly, but they gave no response.

“Click-Clack,” repeated Talmont.

The figure shifted again, however, there was still no response.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he whispered to himself. Getting significantly closer to where rocks gave way to sand, he spoke, “White.”

The ranger at the other side did not give any answers, they did not even make a move.

“White! Fucking-”

This time, the ranger turned their heads slightly towards his direction and he saw the face; The brown hair and blue eyes, this was Ranger Alessa.

“White!” Talmont sighed in defeat after one more try and walked out of the cover of the rocks, “Ranger Alessa, when I say ‘white’ you say ‘lion’ god damn it!”

“Alessa” turned her body towards him with a swiftness that betrayed the idleness before. Her green uniform was black with blood. Where a human would have their intestines, she had a large gaping wound and nothing inside.

Only then Talmont realized the unnatural glow in her eyes, but it was too late,

“UNDEAAAD!” He shouted, trying to draw his sword.

The creature jumped on him, grabbed his sword arm with claw like hands and bit his neck. Four arrows flew past them, two were buried deep in her skull. She was unfazed.

Despite the excessive pain all over and the breath stuck in his throat, Talmont managed to bring his leg up and kicked the creature off of him. She fell prone to the ground. His right arm had flesh and muscle torn, he was barely holding onto his sword let alone swinging it. He walked back a few steps, getting behind the rock formation, “HELP! HEEEELP!”

She prowled like an animal before making another jump, trying swipe his throat with her claws. He managed to bring his left arm up in time and she grazed his vambrace instead. Eight arrows pierced the creature like a doll, this time it gave a shrill screech. Talmont took his sword to his off hand and made a swipe, but she slapped it aside with ease. Unable to move much, he got a few more steps back, behind other rocks and slightly uphill. 

“Alessa” crawled with an unnatural speed on the hill side, keeping cover, looking for him. Four arrows shattered on the rock that she was under, another four simply stuck to the ground in front of her. Talmont tried to go even higher, but due to pain and blood loss, he could only go a few feet before he half fell, half sat down under another rock.

She jumped from one side to the other. Two more and suddenly she was on top of the one he was sitting by. He could almost see a terrible smile on her face as she looked at him, drooling. A white, swift blade cut through the night. The creature’s head fell onto Talmont’s lap as her body collapsed on the rock. Standing over her was Ranger Krakauer; He was holding his scimitar with both hands, the power of his own swing almost brought it down and through between his own legs.

“Oh thank the fuck,” Talmont had tears in his eyes.

“We got you Sir, you’ll be alright,” He came down at his side, trying to pressure his wounds with his hands.

A few moments later Trippier arrived with a healing potion at the ready, “Just drink this Sir, you will be fine-”

Down south, from the entry to the narrow shoreline, came a chorus of screeches, echoing all around them.

“Oh fuck! Let’s go. Move, move, move. MOVE!” Krakauer and Trippier grabbed Talmont and began climbing back up.

As the unholy, shrill noises at the valley increased, the whole camp got up and gathered to leave. They had to relocate further up in the mountains, if they could.

* * * * * * * * 

“No movement at the shore Sir,” the barrelman shouted.

Commander Hodgson clenched his jaw, “Send another signal.”

His Captain gave the order with his hand. Two marines locked, loaded and then fired the fourth consecutive flare of the afternoon. They had been waiting at anchor for the past three days; If this day too went without a sight of the rangers, they would be forced to leave without them.

Not from the shore, but up from the west side of the North Lordaeron Mountains, a green flare answered.

“Lieutenant Dawner, grab a team and go get them!” Commander barked his order.

“Yes Sir!”

Due to the steep cliff face and sharp rocks that covered it, it took them a good three hours before they managed to get the rangers on the frigate. They were supposed to be about two companies strong, maybe a bit less. They brought back fewer than 50.

Once they settled down the rangers, the frigate raised anchor and set sail. Commander Hodgson hosted the battered Ranger Lord in his cabin,

“If you don’t mind me asking Sir, what exactly happened out there? Why weren’t you at the shore?” He poured him a glass from his own personal stock of brandy.

Nathanos one-shot the glass without saying anything. He motioned to him with his hand and the Commander poured another one. After drinking that one too, he finally spoke, “What the fuck took you so long?”

“We have been here for three days now Sir.”

“We sent for you weeks ago.”

“We raised anchor from Stormwind as soon-”

“From Stormwind! Was there a fucking shortage of ships at the sea? What the fuck are you people doing with those gyros if not sending fucking messages to one another?! Hell, even if you were from Stormwind it shouldn’t have taken this fucking long, I sent out my own gryphon rider there!”

“There were a lot of unusual maritime activities in Baradin Bay and later at the rest of the Great Sea. Someone stole the Lordaeron Fleet that lay at anchor in Southshore, Sir.”

Nathanos looked at Commander Hodgson with confusion and frustration. The Commander, for his part, looked offended at the Ranger Lord’s accusations. “Who did it?”

“We do not yet know Sir, however-”

“Oh shut the fuck up!” He took a deep breath to compose himself. Drinking another glass, Nathanos stood up and grabbed the bottle,

“You shitcakes better name a god damned man o war after every single ranger who died out there,” he turned back as he walked out of the door, “And my dogs.”


End file.
